Butcher
by Just Another Soul
Summary: There was no such thing as tenderness, no such thing as kindness, no such thing as mercy. There was only bloodshed and apathy. A multi-chapter origin story that peeks into Sawyer's past and how she became known as "the Cleaner".
1. Chapter One

**Butcher**

butch·er

–_noun_  
1. One who slaughters animals for food or market  
2. One that slaughters indiscriminately or brutally

–_transitive verb_  
1. To kill people or game in a cruel or barbarous manner

Amigodude made a cool poster for this story. Check it out: _ergo-proxie(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/Butcher-134385891_

Black Lagoon and its characters © Rei Hiroe  
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre © New Line Cinema  
Hostel © Lionsgate

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: BAD KITTY**

The young man slowly regained consciousness, and his eyes twitched as they cracked open. He groaned, droplets of blood leaking from his mouth. Everything around him was a blur. He blinked for clarity. The blurs diminished and he was finally able to make out his surroundings.

He screamed.

The room was a greenish-gray, dully illuminated by flickering lights overhead and what looked to be a large oven in a far off corner. There were numerous tables, all of them occupied by dismembered bodies, piles of limbs and severed torsos stacked on top of each other. The man whined and tried to push the corpse he was underneath off of himself. It was then that he realized both of his hands were missing, now also aware of the fresh cuts on his body. Previous events that had landed him in this situation flooded back into his mind.

He shook his head violently. He didn't want to remember them. He just wanted to get out of this horrible place.

With effort, he pushed the dead body off with the stubs, stings going through his nerves from the still bleeding wounds. In doing so, he rolled off of the table and hit the floor. He slowly got to his feet, searching for an exit, doing his best not to look at the corpses around him. He spotted two doors and made his way towards them with a sob. Tears streamed down his face as he held the stubs of his arms outwards, only a meter away from the door.

There was a grotesque crack as a sledgehammer struck him in the leg and shattered his kneecap. He screamed and fell to the ground, instinctively curling in a ball. A small figure clothed in a blood-stained apron and surgeon's scrubs stepped out from behind a pile of bodies on a table, and there was a heavy clatter as the sledgehammer was dropped. The figure grabbed the man by the ankles and dragged him over to a nearby table, clearing off a dismembered head. The man was placed on top of it with a harsh, almost effortless shove. Before the young man could fully assess who, or what, had attacked him, the rotating blade of the saw bit into his neck.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

"You're full of shit!"

"I'm not joking!" A large, bulky man wearing a black apron and rubber gloves moved his hand in a wild gesture, his voice laced with an accent that was difficult to distinguish. He stood at the head of a cleared off table surrounded by other men dressed in similar attire. They all had smirks. The man continued.

"This morning, the guy was covered head-to-toe in cuts, had no hands either, and he was still alive! I opened the doors and only saw it for a second, but he was screaming like a banshee on that table until she cut his head off."

"Poor bastard," one of other men chuckled, "Probably passed out from blood loss and the customer thought he was dead, sent him downstairs to get chopped up by Wednesday Addams." They all burst into laughter.

"How unfortunate," one of them muttered, adjusting the straps of his apron, "That's bad luck, ending up on her shift..."

"All of you, shut up!" The jovial atmosphere diminished and they turned towards the entrance of the room with scowls. There stood five younger males holding a good amount of luggage.

"We cleared everything out of the rooms down by the hostel," said the man in the middle.

"You don't say?" said one of the cleaners gathered around the table. He spat afterwards. The men with the luggage curled their lips, and the cleaners returned the expression. One of men at the entrance lifted up a suitcase.

"There are still some cleaners in the main disposal room in the north hall, right? Okay, you guys here take these and—"

"We know the drill, just leave that shit here," snapped a cleaner.

"You _ugly bastards_ take these..." the young man ad-libbed, brandishing the luggage he held, "Passports, licenses, credit cards, photographs, even clothing, anything that would give the identity of the body, you burn, got it?" With a curse or two under their breaths at the unneeded directions, the cleaners rolled their eyes as the five men dropped the luggage and walked out of the room, leaving the door open.

"I hate burning personal effects," whined one of the skinnier cleaners, lifting up a couple of suitcases and purses onto the table, "The smoke's bad for my sinuses."

"Would you rather be stuck in the main disposal room with mini-Morticia?" They all began to open the luggage and rummaged through the personal belongings.

"I don't share a shift with her there." Souvenirs, books, licenses, photographs and other items were separated into piles.

"Those greedy bastards," one of them cursed, looking into an empty wallet, "Of course they took the money while they cleaned out the rooms." He tossed it into a pile on the table. The others grumbled in agreement.

"Hey, look here, one of the 'guests' was religious." The bulky cleaner brandished a Bible. "A lot of good this did 'em." The bitterness receded as they all snickered. The bulky cleaner was just about to put the Bible into the book pile when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. It was small figure in surgeon's clothing, but the goggles and mask weren't present. She was walking by the door with her head forward, not looking into the room.

"Sawyer!" the man yelled, trying to get her attention, "Just got off your shift in the main room, did you? The 'maids' came, there could be a couple of books you'd be interested in."

"She doesn't have to burn today. The fuck are you calling her over here for?" hissed one of the cleaners. The others had an anxious look as Sawyer walked over to the table and snatched a book out of the pile. Passports and IDs were strictly reserved for burning, but the rule on books was more lax.

She examined the title and flipped through the pages clinically, before she snapped it shut and tossed it into the crematory across from the table. She repeated the process, unsatisfied with the contents she had to choose from, though truthfully, no one in the room could decipher any emotion in her features. After tossing "The Rats in the Walls" into the flames, she turned abruptly on her heel and walked out, heading south down the hallway.

"Awfully picky today," muttered the bulky cleaner, "She even burned Lovecraft."

"Not like she needs it," piqued the skinnier cleaner, shrugging. "It will just give her more to carry later." He was met with a quizzical look.

"What?" the large man asked.

"You haven't heard? Today is her last day here. She's getting transferred."

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

"Hi! M-my n-name i-is Ecki!" The lanky man held his hand out to the refined, groomed middle-aged gentleman sitting beside him in the back seat of the car.

"Rolf," the other man responded simply, self-consciously adjusting his tie and refusing to shake the outstretched hand. He took in Ecki's appearance. He had bleached blonde hair sticking out in every direction in a failed attempt at a mohawk, orange goggles on his forehead, one of the lenses were cracked, a dark green shirt with torn sleeves, ripped jeans, and tattered black sneakers. There were small holes in his arms and traces of a powdery substance on his clothing. Ecki looked to be in his late twenties at best, his body twitching and jerking at unpredictable moments while he shook like a leaf. It was terrible, the man couldn't speak without a stutter.

Rolf sighed and crossed his arms. A junkie, of all the people he could have been escorted by, it had to be a junkie. Ecki took no offense to the man refusing to shake and bounced up and down in his seat.

"S-s-so, y-you c-come from R-R-Roanap-pur, right? I h-heard a-all k-k-kinds of th-things a-about th-that p-p-place!" Ecki cackled and kicked the back of the driver's seat, irritating the chauffeur.

"Indeed, I come from the branch located in Roanapur," Rolf confirmed, running his hand over his short black hair. Oh, great, now the junkie was going to initiate conversation? All he wanted to do was pick up the new cleaners and leave...

"Y-y-you kn-know, we u-u-usually t-transfer wh-whores, but w-we n-never s-send out c-c-cleaners," Ecki started, "B-b-but wh-when we h-heard th-that A-Adolph w-was th-the one r-r-requesting, h-how c-could w-we refuse?"

"Yes, I'm sure my brother has quite an established reputation in this business," Rolf said flatly, almost ashamed of the words.

"S-s-so wh-what's g-going on th-that h-he n-n-needed to a-ask for e-extra h-help? Wh-why d-didn't h-he c-c-come here hims-self?"

"I'd rather not say," said Rolf. This was the fourth trip he had made that year for more cleaners. The hostel branches in Asia weren't giving his brother any more chances. Right now, Eastern Europe was the next best stop.

"Okay," Ecki said. "D-d-don't w-worry a-about a th-thing! You'll g-g-get y-your c-cleaner!"

"Cleaner?" Rolf noted the lack of plural form. "One cleaner is not going to be enough for the... _situation_ back in Roanapur."

"T-trust me, sh-she's en-nough!"

"She?" Rolf gave him a skeptical look.

"I w-was l-l-lucky I c-caught h-her at the r-right t-time," Ecki rambled, smiling. "I-I w-was in H-Houston on vac-cation. W-was in a r-r-really b-bad part o-of t-t-town, s-sitting on t-top of m-my c-car ac-cross a r-run d-down m-m-motel, h-high as a k-kite t-too. G-good times! At n-night, I-I s-see th-this g-girl across th-the s-street w-w-wearing a p-purple d-dress a-and a b-b-backpack. Sh-she g-goes int-to a r-room w-with a g-guy w-way old-der th-than she i-is. I d-don't c-care ab-bout th-th-things like th-that."

Rolf inhaled slowly. What was the point of this story?

"I j-just s-s-sit across th-the s-street s-staring a-at the sk-sky, th-thinking ab-bout stuff. N-no one e-else i-is ar-round, b-but I h-h-hear th-this scream, a-and th-then it's real qu-quiet. I'm r-really o-out of it, a-and I g-g-get u-up and s-stumble a-a-around. W-wanted t-t-to s-see w-what th-the s-scream w-was about. Next th-thing I kn-know, I-I'm at th-the d-door. It w-was l-locked, so I p-peek th-th-through the w-window. N-no c-c-curtains, b-but the sh-shades were i-in the w-way, a-and the r-room w-was really d-dark. I l-look r-really h-h-hard through o-one of the g-g-gaps in th-the sh-shades, I s-see the g-g-guy o-on the b-bed..."

Rolf rolled his eyes. He didn't need to hear the sexual escapades of a stranger and a young girl.

"A-and o-on the d-dresser, and o-on th-the floor, a-and on th-the w-walls!" Ecki guffawed. "And th-there sh-she was, c-cutting th-through h-h-his l-leg with a h-hacksaw. Hahaha! D-don't kn-know for s-sure h-how i-it h-happened, but I b-b-bet sh-she k-killed h-him aft-ter she c-cut off his—"

"I get the idea," Rolf interjected. Ecki giggled and made a sawing motion towards his crotch.

"B-before that, I-I alw-ways th-thought d-d-dying d-during s-sex would b-be a g-good w-way to g-g-go. G-guess not..." Ecki said, "She h-had a s-sawzall t-too. Y-you c-could t-t-tell the g-guy w-was dead, h-he was i-in p-pieces, b-but sh-she just k-kept o-on c-cutting him up. R-really f-focused, l-like n-n-nothing else in th-the w-world w-was th-there b-besides that c-c-corpse and th-that saw. It w-was c-c-cool. I w-was stoned, b-b-but I kn-know p-potential w-when I s-see it."

Rolf cocked an eyebrow.

"I w-waited b-b-by th-the room u-until she w-was d-done. Aft-ter a r-r-really l-long t-time, sh-she opens th-the d-door real s-slow, and th-then s-sees me s-sitting u-under the w-w-window. I s-stand up, sh-she r-reaches ins-side h-her backp-pack, b-but then I t-t-took th-this out," Ecki pulled a business card out of his pocket, "A-and I t-told her, 'H-hey, I s-s-saw w-what you d-did there. Y-you're r-really g-g-good at i-it. I kn-know a p-p-place in Eur-rope w-where you c-c-can work, y-you get t-to ch-chop up b-b-bodies a-all the t-time. C-come with m-me there a-and y-you'll b-be hired.' Sh-she t-took the c-c-card, l-looked it o-over, and aft-ter a long t-time, sh-she n-nodded at m-me. She c-can't talk b-because of a b-big scar."

Ecki pointed to his neck.

"B-but I-I saw th-this scary l-look o-on her f-face, and I s-said, 'B-but d-d-don't try t-to k-kill me, okay? Y-you need m-me to g-get you th-there. Y-you'll b-be really l-lost; one wr-wrong move a-and you'll e-end up d-dancing i-in a g-g-glass box in Amsterdam!'" He laughed. "S-so we g-get the h-hell out of th-there, t-t-take the t-trip b-back here, I introd-duce her t-to the b-business, a-and she g-gets hired. I-I w-was really luck-ky! G-good thing I f-found her wh-when I d-did, F-Fargo Chen w-would have s-snatched her r-right u-up if I d-didn't!"

Ecki nibbled on his tongue in thought.

"She's b-been w-working for t-t-two y-years now, the b-best c-c-cleaner we have. Sh-she's a-all you n-need."

"If she really is as high quality as you say, why are you letting her go to Roanapur? Why not have her stay here and offer other cleaners if she does her job so well?" Rolf wasn't convinced.

"Hey, d-don't b-be like that! I'm t-t-telling the t-truth!" Ecki jerked himself forward until his noise was crammed against Rolf's. Rolf shoved him away. Licking his lips and hunching over, Ecki scratched the side of his head.

"Sh-she is th-the best," Ecki muttered, pursing his lips, "I-it's just... C-cleaning isn't j-j-just a j-job t-to her, it d-doesn't e-end at the sh-shift. She d-d-doesn't like t-to t-take b-breaks very much, j-j-just w-wants to k-k-keep c-cutting. I th-think she r-really l-likes it. It m-makes the oth-ther c-c-cleaners mad, they n-need t-to g-g-get their share d-done t-too. Th-they d-don't g-get p-p-paid if th-they d-don't haul their w-weight, b-but how c-can they h-haul the weight i-if she k-keeps t-taking it? It's b-b-been g-getting worse l-lately. Th-there were a c-c-couple of t-times w-we had t-to f-force her t-to stop."

"So you're letting her go because she works too much?" Rolf asked. Despite Ecki's uneasy stance, what the junkie said was uplifting to hear. If the girl really did work as much as Ecki said she did, he had hopes that the troubling situation that was taking place at the hostel branch in Roanapur would settle. Rolf tried not to bite on his lip. The work ethic was of no concern to him at this point, but what of the girl's mind?

"Th-that's p-part of it," Ecki confirmed, "She's r-real sc-scary too. G-got into the g-goth th-thing over a y-year ago, b-b-but she l-looked l-like a g-ghost way b-before she s-started w-wearing b-black. Has th-this l-look, it's n-not very n-nice. H-her eyes are the w-worst, can n-never t-tell what's g-g-going on i-in her h-head. The other c-c-cleaners are af-fraid of h-her. C-can you imag-gine? All th-these b-b-big, t-tough guys s-scared of a l-little, t-teenage g-girl. It's r-really funny!" Ecki snickered and began to kick the back of the driver's seat again. The chauffeur was about three seconds away from tossing Ecki out of the vehicle.

"A-and Ad-dolph is the o-one a-asking in the f-first p-place. He's g-got a g-good r-rep in these p-parts. We're n-not g-going t-to g-give him s-second rate. She's the–!"

"Yes, yes, I get it, she's the best you have," Rolf said hurriedly. The rest of the drive continued in silence, save for the loud snorting Ecki was making after her pulled out a white, powdery substance and lined it up on his hand.

"I m-miss Leigarch. H-he h-had the g-good stuff. N-not this shit. I'm b-b-better off s-sniffing g-g-glue these d-days," Ecki mumbled as he rubbed his nose. He smiled and squished his face and hands right up against the window.

"We're h-here!" The vehicle stopped and the chauffeur silently thanked whatever invisible force up above for making it through the trip without strangling Ecki. Rolf took in the scenery as he and Ecki stepped out of the car. It was a run-down factory building a little ways out of the nearest town, a couple of cars parked outside. The rest of the area was dirt and gravel with a small patch of dried grass here and there. It wasn't anything too special at first glance. The crows flying around and resting on the factory building cawed. The calls mixed together, almost sounding like laughter.

_Ha! Haha! Ha! Haha! Ha!_

"This is w-where th-the m-magic h-happens!" Ecki thrust his arms up in the air and waved them around. "O-once our p-p-prostitutes l-lure the 'g-guests' t-to the h-hostel and w-we d-d-do some b-b-background ch-checks, this is w-where w-we d-d-drag them s-so we c-can service the r-real c-c-customers ins-side. B-businessmen, p-p-politicians, a-average c-citizens, a-anyone who's w-willing t-to s-spend the money, r-really. The c-c-cops d-don't b-bother us s-since we p-pay them w-well."

Rolf sighed. He was involved in this business for years. There wasn't any need for Ecki's explanation, but he knew it would be a useless attempt to interrupt him in full flow.

"The c-customer c-can t-torture at th-their leisure, d-depending o-on the hours th-they p-payed f-for, of c-c-course. The b-building d-doesn't look like m-much, b-but we m-modified it t-to p-provide m-many th-themed r-rooms. M-most of them a-are on th-the c-center f-floors. The s-s-superiors' off-fices are o-on the t-t-top, the c-cleaners s-stay in th-the b-b-basement l-levels. That's w-where y-your c-cleaner w-will b-b-be. She h-has h-her own r-room d-d-downstairs. She l-lives h-here." Ecki placed his hands on Rolf's shoulders.

"Ah, y-you s-stay here. We've b-b-been r-really b-busy, w-we d-didn't h-have a ch-chance t-to c-clean up the p-place and m-make it l-look nice."

Rolf furrowed his eyebrows and curled his lip. It was an _old factory building_.

"W-wait by the c-car, I'll t-tell her y-you're here. Sh-she sh-should b-be d-done and r-ready b-by now. Sh-she'll b-be r-right out." Ecki turned around and scuttled into the building. Crossing his arms and leaning against the car, Rolf tried to compose himself. He looked up and saw the murder of crows overhead staring at him with their beady, black eyes, still cawing, laughing.

He felt himself shrink into his suit.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Agonizing screams and cries of the unfortunate "guests" echoed through the vents. The young girl intertwined her fingers together, twiddling her thumbs with a blank stare. It didn't bother her. She was used to it.

She looked up to the ceiling. Ecki, an unorthodox manager of sorts, was supposed to pick her up, wasn't he? She half-heartedly wondered what was taking him so long. It wasn't surprising the idiot was taking his sweet time. He probably got desperate and started sniffing glue in a paper bag before he was supposed to leave the nearby hostel. The corners of her lips curved upwards, but the smile was empty.

She narrowed her eyes. Ecki's condition was critical. The man was ready to drop dead at any second. Sawyer overheard the other cleaners saying they had a death pool betting on which one of them was going to have to clean him up first. Even the those who held a high position in the hostel were expecting his death soon.

She could imagine it all now. Ecki would come waltzing into the building, heart beating at impossible speeds. _Thump, thump, thump,_ and _splurt_! Ecki's heart would burst out of his chest, and he would lay motionless on the ground as his heart squirted six feet of blood in every direction while it pulsated across the floor. She knew it was an impossible situation, but it was an amusing thought.

She remembered when she had met Ecki, playing out the scenario in her mind. Back when she was fourteen in Texas, she needed money and had come across some old pervert with a stuffed wallet. She took him to a practically isolated motel. The man was an easy target, she knew she would be able to take him out with a butcher knife in her backpack the moment he closed the door. Then she pulled out the hacksaw and sawzall...

Next thing she knew, it was all over. She had gathered her things and whatever valuables she could use, then stepped out slowly, only to find an addict baked out of his mind sitting right outside the room, telling her he saw what she did. She was going to slash his throat and cut him apart in the nearby alley, but then he showed her that business card. It was in a language she couldn't understand, but the logo had struck a cord. She saw it tattooed on some men she had overheard bragging about taking a "murder vacation", a conversation she kept in the back of her head. The business prospects Ecki was talking about did seem genuine, but she was skeptical.

She thought out a list of precautions to take in case he tried to betray her. She didn't want to end up in a glass box in Amsterdam on display like a toy, though from her observation, the sickly addict didn't exactly fit the profile of the gigolos that seduced women and sold them to whorehouses. Though if he tried to trick her and she wound up killing him, she'd end up backpacking through Europe. However, when she considered her other options as a runaway staying in the Southwestern United States, anonymity in Europe with a job didn't seem like such a terrible idea.

In the end, her better judgment had assessed that Ecki, while severely out of it, was being honest about the job offer. She had accepted, but she was still wary. Fortunately, Ecki was true to his word and she was hired.

Her mind drifting, her dark blue eyes wandered along the surrounding décor. The entire room was concrete, tiny cracks and pipes creeping along the walls, the only source of light in the room was the flickering light bulb dangling from the ceiling. It wasn't the best living space, but that hardly mattered to her. It was the closest place to her work, to the bodies. That was important.

It was the main reason she had accepted the job offer. Dismembering the bodies was her therapy, her outlet. It angered her when she was forced to take a break, one of the most drastic examples being that Ecki and the other cleaners had tried to grab her by the waist and drag her out of the main disposal room only three days ago. If that was going to be their attitudes, she would be satisfied with moving to Thailand.

It was disappointing when she had to stop. The dismemberment and disposal was a good reprieve from her emotional issues, which had worsened horribly only months after she ran away from home when she was twelve and had her throat slit...

Her train of thought broken, she began to sweat. Her breathing was erratic and she gripped for the electrolarynx in the pocket of her skirt for comfort.

She blinked and composed herself as she heard a groan in the corner. Her roommate was awake.

A glowing green eye stared at her from across the room, the other missing with a grotesque scar across the right side of the face. The short black strands were matted with dried blood, pieces were missing on the ears, a dent in its tail, and there were claw marks in the scruff of the neck from previous fights with other predators. The creature was battered and scarred, but from the way it acted, one would think it only had a flesh wound. It had somehow found its way into the factory building and settled into her room several weeks ago.

She named the cat Pluto. It was her pet.

She displayed another empty smile. No, Pluto wasn't a pet. Certainly not a pet. It was probably abused as a kitten or abandoned at birth. The cat showed no affection, regarding anyone around it as nothing more than an object in its environment. Aside from the initial appearance, the feline didn't show a single trait of being domesticated. Though it could still be in the company of humans, given the proper distance. God help anyone who so much as tried to get within three feet of Pluto, let alone try to pet it. She didn't doubt that it would scratch her face off if she attempted to move towards the little cardboard box it was resting in.

The corner of her mouth twitched. What a mangy creature. She would have happily chopped Pluto to bits if it weren't for that fact that it was the only thing that was killing the small vermin that entered her room.

There was a knock at the door.

"S-S-Sawyer? Y-y-you i-in th-there?" The knob turned and Ecki poked his head in. "Ah, th-the m-man f-from Roanap-pur is h-here. H-he's w-w-waiting outs-side. Y-y-you r-ready t-to g-go?" Sawyer pulled the dark black sleeves of her shirt over her wrists and rose from her spot on the ratty bed, picking up a duffel bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She wasn't going to bother with Pluto.

"O-okay, th-then, l-let's g—" Ecki saw something out the corner of his eye. He walked over to the small cardboard box and his face reflected an expression like that of a child on Christmas morning. Ecki gasped, threw his hands up in the air, bent over to grab Pluto, and in a high-pitched squeal, miraculously without a single stutter, shouted:

"KITTY!"

A horrendous, ear-splitting noise erupted from the cat's throat. It unsheathed its claws and slashed Ecki's face to ribbons. The man instantly had a heart attack and fell over. Pluto continued to claw at the man, managing to scratch out one of his eyeballs in the process.

Sawyer walked over and kicked Pluto away. The cat hissed, but didn't attack her. Instead, it strode over and pawed at the eyeball, snatching it away and going back into its cardboard box before Sawyer had a chance to kick it again.

Sawyer looked down at the corpse with indifference. Well, that was an interesting ten seconds.

A minute or two later, she was donned in her surgical gear.

Pluto happily munched on the eyeball as Sawyer pulled the ripcord on the chainsaw. The man from Roanapur could wait.

* * *

**A/N:** Don't do drugs, kids.

Oh, no, I'm attempting a multi-chapter story. In all honesty, I was trying to abstain from writing this tale for months (way back in October of 2008), but then it literally began to haunt me in my sleep, and I knew the dreams wouldn't stop until I wrote it out. So... here it is. A man with no hands wakes up underneath a corpse, Sawyer was living in a building where people are tortured 24/7, and a drug addict gets his eyeball eaten by a cat, and that's just the first chapter. I feel ashamed.

99.999% of the time, I stay away from making OCs in fanfiction, but in this situation, they were needed for the sole reason of moving the plot along. They're just devices to use at my whim and get tossed aside when I feel they've served their purpose. Nothing more, nothing less. The story is about Sawyer and her past, not the OCs.

I apologize for making you read through all those evil hyphens in Ecki's speech, and if you all thought reading his stutter was a pain, try writing it.

While there are many references to the movie "Hostel" and it will be a prevalent theme in future chapters, the characters from that movie are not/will not be used or mentioned. Also, deviating from the movie, the location of the "hostel" mentioned in this chapter is _not_ placed in Slovakia (Bratislava is not a 19th century village, you silly tourists), but I will say it is set in a random slum-ish area somewhere in Eastern Europe. All I really wanted was a vague setting for this chapter.

With that out of the way, I will clarify that while the characters and exact setting from the movie "Hostel" will be pushed aside, it is extremely important to keep the business venture (the "murder resort") that the movie was based around in mind. If there truly was a business solely dedicated to torture and murder, they'd need a lot of people on hand to get rid of the bodies. It's an interesting theory that Sawyer possibly could have gotten a start on her official cleaning resume in a place like that.

The events of this story have somewhat loose connections to the collaboration I did with Amigodude, "Bloodlust," (TCM references coming) but I will also write those references vaguely enough for the story to stand alone and to avoid confusion for those of you who have not read the collaboration, and for those of you haven't read it, I recommend doing so when you have the time. We worked very hard on that story!

Speaking of Amigodude, props to him for bringing Fargo Chen to my attention – A Triad boss from Hong Kong that operated out of Houston up until he got arrested. And, once again, thank you for the poster.

Cheers.


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO: MEET THE FÜHRER**

Rolf was rigid in the passenger seat of the sedan. After spending several days working up the nerve, he finally called Adolph shortly after he and the new cleaner passed under the noose and entered Roanapur. He was brief, purposefully leaving out key details, such as that Eastern Europe had only given him one cleaner, and that the cleaner in question was young girl. Rolf only told Adolph that he received the help needed. No more, no less.

He wiped the sweat off his brow. It was a tense situation, but it would be better for him to tell Adolph the exact details in person rather than over the phone. It would give him a chance to convince his brother to hold back on the "greeting".

Shortly after Rolf hung up, the cough that he had tried to suppress came out. He held a handkerchief over the lower half of his face, pinching his nose through the fabric. The chauffeur had rolled the window down for both their sakes, but it had little effect. Rolf tightly turned his head and watery eyes focused on the girl in the back seat.

That girl, that horrible little girl. Rolf had been tormented by her scent for days. It was a rotten stench of blood and burnt corpses, she reeked of decay. Her appearance was nothing to be desired either. She was covered in black, save for scuffed brown boots that rose to her knees. The pitch black hair drew attention to the pale face, small black strands shading hollow eyes. What a ghastly little thing. If he hadn't seen her walk out of the factory building, he'd have thought she was spat out of Hell. Disgusting.

Rolf's attention was directed downward as he saw dull shine below the scarred neck. It was a cross. Of all things, she was wearing a cross. He didn't question its meaning, but was sickened by the irony of its presence on the girl. He turned away.

Sawyer paid little attention to the man, but found herself mildly entertained at whatever discomfort she caused him. She knew she bothered him, if not for her appearance, then certainly the smell. Having stayed in the basement level in the Hostel by the bodies for two years, she was well aware the scent of death clung to her clothes, her hair, her flesh.

The stench didn't bother her in the slightest, but judging from the stiffness of the man in the passenger seat, it caused him great unease. It was painfully obvious, yet he was trying so hard to hide it. Sawyer was tempted to see if the man would maintain his facade if she licked her finger and stuck it in his ear, but she held back... for now.

Absentmindedly playing with her cross, she looked out the window. Only days ago, she was working in a small area that looked like a quaint village with the charm of a ghost town. It was the textbook image of the stereotypical setting that was implanted in the heads of tourists whenever they heard the words "Eastern Europe". It was such a droll place.

This place, Roanapur, was different. The clubs, casinos and bars along the strips drew attention. The presence of hotels and office buildings with Western influence fused with Eastern settings and themes. It was a city in a tropical setting, a sun in the center of a clear blue sky, a sharp contrast from the dreary gray skies she was familiar with. It reminded her of a picture she had seen long ago, before she started cleaning...

She also saw similarities with the dark alleyways leading into unknown spaces or dead ends, poorly maintained apartments and other facilities. The looks of the residents oozed greed and depravity. The noose she saw hanging over the bridge was something she kept in mind. There was a demonic aura in the city, she could feel it.

Sighing, she lightly kicked her feet back and forth. Sawyer was bored. She looked at Rolf. The man's eyes were closed. He was trying to relax. A wicked smile played across Sawyer's features and she licked her finger.

Rolf yelped and the vehicle finally stopped in front of its intended destination.

"Y-you... little... _maggot_!" Rolf muttered, not looking at his offender.

Sawyer stuck her tongue out. Rolf stepped out and slammed the door, doing his best to maintain a leveled appearance as he jammed and twisted a handkerchief in his ear, trying to get the saliva out. He glared at the girl as she got out of the car and retrieved her luggage from the trunk. Seeing that the girl had all of her items, the chauffeur drove off.

"Come this way," Rolf instructed gruffly.

The building she followed Rolf into didn't appear to be anything special. It looked like an abandoned hotel, a structure not unlike the old factory. This was where the guests were dragged and disposed of. Sawyer assumed the hostel, the "legitimate" business front, was located elsewhere in the city. She was certain of it.

She wondered why Rolf took her here first instead of the hostel building. When Ecki first introduced her to the business, he offered her temporary lodging at the hostel before he gave her a tour through the factory. Perhaps the process was reversed in Roanapur?

"Watch your step," Rolf said half-heartedly, unlocking the door and swinging it open. Sawyer immediately noticed there was a six inch dip to the floor from the bottom of the frame after stepping inside. Walking by Rolf's side past a lobby and down a hall, she took in his stance as well as the interior of her new work place. Cheap, yellowish wallpaper was peeling around the edges. The carpeted floor was a faded burgundy with small tears and cigarette burns.

"I'm sure you're already familiar with how the levels are organized. This is the floor where the customers finalize their contract and where they get dressed for their activities. The torture chambers are above, cleaning quarters below. The walls throughout the building are soundproof, but there is little we can do about the vents..."

Rolf self-conscientiously ran his hand over his short goatee, placing his handkerchief into the chest pocket of his suit as he heard muffled cries from the floors above. Sawyer was mildly amused. An uptight man who appeared to be so prim and proper didn't blend with this environment at all.

They reached the end of the hallway and Rolf pressed the button for the elevator. The doors parted and they stepped in. Rolf pressed for the basement levels. They stood side by side, not looking at each other, the both of them sharing a bland expression as they heard Muzak over the speakers.

With a ding, the elevator stopped and the doors parted once again. Rolf stepped out and Sawyer followed. She noticed that it wasn't very different from the primary disposal floor back in Europe. Green, everything was tinted green. Stains from water and mystery fluids stuck to the walls. The color of the floor was a combination of deep red and rusty brown. The sounds of saws whirring and the scent of blood and burning flesh filled the air.

Rolf coughed and covered the lower half of his face with his hand as they walked through the hall. He never did like coming to this floor.

A cleaner popped out of one of the rooms and passed by them, pushing a cart loaded with dismembered limbs. Sawyer blinked. She paid no attention to the loaded cart, but clearly saw the cleaner's expression before his face was out of her view. The man's eyes were wide, almost bulging out of his head. His body was stiff and his breathing was labored. There was something wrong with him.

Sawyer shrugged.

Rolf shook his head and averted his eyes.

"This way." Rolf and Sawyer turned around a corner. After a lengthy walk, Rolf stopped and took out a key, unlocking a door and flipping a switch inside.

"This will be where you will stay." He gave her a small key and gestured for her to go in. "...Until you have found another residence, should you choose to live elsewhere in your spare time." This caught Sawyer's attention. There were _private_ rooms built into this floor? The only reason she was able to reside in the basement level back at the factory was because she requested occupying one of the empty storage rooms, and Ecki accepted.

"The Hostel in Roanapur prefers to keep their cleaners in close quarters," Rolf said, picking his words carefully. It wasn't so much the Hostel chain itself but the _owner_ that wanted the cleaners nearby.

Sawyer poked her head into the room. It was bigger than her room back at the factory, though not by much. In comparison to the concrete décor she had back in Europe, the walls were covered with gaudy wallpaper and the floors had thin layer of stained carpeting. There was a substandard bed against the wall, a nightstand with a lamp missing its shade beside it, and a small television in the corner, probably black and white. She stepped in and saw the entrance to the bathroom.

"I shall give you time to get settled," Rolf said, "But I do not recommend becoming completely relaxed. I am certain you will be working soon."

Sawyer nodded and opened the closet by the bed, placing her luggage inside. She unzipped her duffel bag and took out her surgeon's scrubs. Rolf recognized this as a uniform.

"No, don't put that on just yet," Rolf said hurriedly. Sawyer turned her head towards him. Her eyes narrowed. Rolf remembered what that junkie told him. She truly was eager to get to work. He held much contempt for the girl, but her supposed work ethic was a valued trait. However, he knew he couldn't let her work just yet.

"Your boss, Adolph, he will meet you and give you a proper tour, but I need to discuss something with him beforehand. Stay here until someone comes to get you." Without another word, Rolf closed the door.

Sawyer tilted her head. She thought _Rolf_ was her boss. Not dwelling on the matter, she closed her eyes and shrugged. She took a book out of her duffel bag and plopped down on the bed. She wasn't pleased with the delay, but assuming that Rolf's words were true, she was going to get to work soon anyway. No big deal.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

A heavily tattooed man took a swig from the rum bottle. He carelessly threw it in an alleyway and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Damn heat.

"I saw some cleaners today."

"Huh?" A shorter man with similar markings was walking beside him, twisting his finger in his ear. "Wasn't listenin'. What about cleaners?"

"Jackass," his friend muttered, "Said I saw some around town. Looks like a couple more left the Hostel."

"Adolph's place?"

"Yeah."

"What makes you so sure they were his?"

"Oh, hell, I'm sure," the taller of the two confirmed. "The cleaners that come from that place are nutcases. Most of 'em stand up and walk all stiff, got this look on their face like they just saw a ghost. The ones that are really screwed up are like this." The man began to twitch like he was having an epileptic seizure. He stopped and laughed. His friend nodded.

"Yeah, sounds like the führer's runaways. Zoned out worse than a junkie. Never get much cleaning done when they leave the Hostel, I hear. Too damn out of it to even dump a body in the bay. They die off fast."

"Heard a lot of 'em are gettin' out of there lately. Gotta wonder what the hell Adolph is doin' to 'em all to make 'em leave." The shorter male instantaneously shuddered at hearing the final sentence.

"The hell's that about?" the other man asked, regarding the short-lived shudder of his friend.

"Don't try to wonder what that bastard does behind closed doors. Years ago, I only talked to Adolph one time. _One time_. When we were done talking, I knew enough about him."

"And that is?"

"The man's fucked up as hell in the skull. I don't want to know anything beyond that."

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

"Adolph?" Rolf cracked the door open, "Are you in here?"

"Come in, Rolf." There was an audible gulp as Rolf ran his hand over his hair and entered the dimmed room. He kept his head down and avoided looking at the decorations in Adolph's office. He didn't need, or _want_, to look at plastinated bodies and human remains pickled in jars, nor was he interested in catching a glimpse of the medieval torture devices on display. The hellish paintings and self-made anatomical charts provided no comfort either. Rolf didn't glimpse once at the books, knowing the contents were related to the theme of the room's decor. A part of him regretted directly taking the elevator to the top floor, wishing he had extended his time and walked to the hostel and back to this false hotel before coming to Adolph's office.

He soon found himself standing in front of the large mahogany desk with a chair turned away from him. Rolf sighed wearily as he saw a picture of Josef Mengele on top of it.

"Adolph?" Rolf inquired. The chair turned and revealed a man who was Rolf's mirror image, almost. Adolph's features were slightly sharper than his own, black hair askew rather than well groomed. It could have been attributed to the poor lighting in the room, but it appeared that Adolph's eyes were missing the glint of light that was reflected in Rolf's.

"_Grüß dich_, Rolf!" Adolph greeted his twin with a toothy smile, sorting through a thin pile of papers.

"_Gleichfalls_," Rolf said uneasily, adjusting his tie.

"It's been stressful without you here. The assistant manager and I have had our hands full dealing with all the contracts and finances, but it's nothing we couldn't handle." Adolph dropped the papers on the desk and leaned back in his chair, running his fingers over his goatee with a smirk. "You're usually very detailed when you speak with me about the employees. Yet when you called me over the phone, you sounded rushed. I don't even think you were on for more than thirty seconds before you hung up on me. Any reason why?"

"I assure you, Eastern Europe gave us the help we need, but..." Rolf swallowed. "...They only gave us one cleaner." He braced himself. To Rolf's surprise, his brother did not lash out at him. With a hum, Adolph moved forward and placed his elbows on the table, chin resting on top of his interlaced fingers.

"Only one?" Adolph asked. The tone was one of interest, not the rage that Rolf had been expecting. Wary of Adolph's reaction, Rolf went into detail.

"Correct. I was skeptical at first, but they were adamant that she was the best they had to offer."

"She?"

"Yes. A young girl, very young. I was told she was extremely diligent, possibly to the point of obsession. It was reported there were occasions when she had to be forced to stop working." Rolf took a deep breath as his brother closed his eyes in thought. The tapping of Adolph's fingers on the desk was the only sound that broke through the long, drawn out silence. Adolph's eyes opened slowly.

"Truly, Rolf, there's no need for you to be so tense," Adolph said reassuringly with a wave of his hand. His eyes didn't match the voice. "This girl sounds to be quite the model employee, but I don't see her standing here in my office. Why didn't you bring her in with you?"

"I took her to the cleaning quarters down below. She's in her room."

"That doesn't answer my question, Rolf. _Why didn't you bring her in with you?_" Adolph smiled, and Rolf choked on a whimper before gathering his resolve. He needed to tell him this.

"I didn't bring her in because I didn't want you to frighten her," Rolf said steadily.

"Frighten her?" Adolph scoffed, "How could I possibly scare a young girl who willingly cleans up bodies all day? Surely, you don't think I'm so terrible?"

"Knock it off," Rolf demanded. Adolph gave him an inquiring look, and this served to infuriate Rolf. That bastard. The girl may have been a horrible little waif, but Rolf was uncertain if she would be able to tolerate Adolph's behavior.

"Europe only gave us _one_ _cleaner,_ Adolph, _one_!" Rolf extended his thumb for emphasis. "At this rate, we cannot afford to lose anymore, and I know damn well we will not get any more either! All of the other chains in Asia have cut us off! I'm doubtful Europe will even _lend_ to us if they were to hear we lost this cleaner, _their best_. Our own cleaning staff is dwindling down to nothing and we're up to our necks in dead bodies! The Hostel, the streets, the gangs! I swear, Adolph, don't you dare try to scare her like you did the others with your games!"

"Games?" Adolph placed a finger on his cheek and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't ever recall playing solitaire with the cleaning staff."

"_Halts Maul! Du weißt wovon ich rede!_" Rolf swore, "Even those who have stayed are completely broken! The cleaners can't stand it, Adolph! You need to control yourself!"

"I do control myself," Adolph said evenly. He rose from his seat and walked to the nearest bookcase, taking out a thick volume on medical practices in the Middle Ages and flipping through its pages. "It's the cleaners who need control. I try to give them valuable lessons, experience, but they fail to grasp my instructions. They don't seem interested in my guidance. It's depressing."

"GUIDANCE?" Rolf snarled, "JUST LAST WEEK, YOU _FORCED_ ONE OF THEM TO PERFORM TREPANATION ON A LIVE PROSTITUTE WITH A DRILL AND SAW!"

"As opposed to trephining with a hammer?" Adolph quipped as he closed the book. "If you know of any alternate methods of its execution, please enlighten me." He put the book back in its place and turned his back to Rolf. Fists clenched at his sides, Rolf approached his twin.

"We brought the Hostel to Roanapur over a decade ago, and your behavior for these last years is inexcusable. You have worked in this business long enough to know your 'instructions' are completely unnecessary. The cleaners only need to perform the basics; cut, chop, burn. Dismemberment and disposal is all they need to do, _not your fucking science experiments_!"

Adolph turned around and grabbed Rolf by the throat. He threw him to the floor and pinned him, digging his knees into his chest. With a malicious smile, Adolph leaned down until Rolf could feel his breath on his face.

"I think one who cannot perform 'the basics' should know his place," Adolph whispered. Rolf lay still in panic. He made a mistake.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, _Rudolf_. Never talk to me as though you have complete control of this business. Remember that I'm perfectly capable of managing the paperwork _and_ the bodies. I only keep you here to make the workload of the former easier." Rolf's breathing was erratic as Adolph drew circles on his cheek with his finger.

"Now, now, Rudolf, don't be scared. I would not kill my own twin. It would be like looking into a mirror and watching myself die. But, if you talk like that to me again..." He leaned down further so his mouth was right next to Rolf's ear. Adolph trailed his fingers across his brother's trembling lips. "_Ich wäre entzückt darüber, dir die Zunge herauszuschneiden und dir den Mund zuzunähen. Das wäre interessant. Ich habe mich immer gefragt wie ich wohl aussehen würde, würde ich eine Nadel nehmen und mir Klavierdraht durch die Lippen ziehen... Würdest du das mögen, Rudolf?_"

Rolf's eyes grew to the size of saucers and he shook his head vehemently. Adolph sat up, but he still kept his knees pressed firmly against Rolf's chest. He moved his hand away from Rolf's mouth and brought it up to his own.

He bit the flesh off the tip of his thumb.

Rolf whimpered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as Adolph tauntingly showed him the blood. When a sob finally escaped from Rolf's throat, Adolph smirked and licked the large red droplet that had formed.

"_Du bist an so vielen Morden beteiligt und hast noch immer Angst vor Blut. Armselig,_" Adolph muttered. He stood up and took in the sight of Rolf shivering on the floor. Adolph chuckled and shook his head, nudging him with his foot.

"Now to the matter at hand," Adolph started, "This mystery girl, she's in one of the lodging rooms, isn't she?"

Shakily getting to his feet, Rolf struggled to compose himself. The blood, the blood...

"Don't worry, brother dearest, since you caught me in a good mood, I'll go along with your little request. I will behave for _today_." He gripped Rolf's tie and pulled him along. "You will go down to the cleaning quarters with me and you will show me the room you placed her in. I want to meet this girl for myself."

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

With a huff, Sawyer sprawled out on the bed. She had tried to pass some time by counting the tiles on the ceiling, but that failed to hold her attention. She had tried to occupy herself by playing with the mouse she found under her bed, but the creature managed to wriggle out of her hands and run into a small hole in the wall behind the nightstand. It was probably going to breed and produce more mice. Just perfect.

She had stopped reading her book long ago. It was now draped over her face, only leaving her eyes visible. She sighed deeply and took the book off of her face, hopping out of bed and heading for her uniform in the closet. She couldn't stand the monotony any longer.

Sawyer stopped and looked over at the door when she heard someone knocking. Finally, she thought. She walked over and opened the door. She cautiously parted it with an eerie creak, revealing... Rolf?

The normally strict and proper man had changed appearance somewhat. He still wore a suit, but the black hair wasn't as slick, the face was sharper and more heavily creased, and his eyes were darker than she remembered. This man looked more threatening, more vile. Was this her boss "Adolph"? Sawyer briefly wondered if Rolf had a split personality. A bleak version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, that would certainly be amusing.

There was a smidgen of disappointment as a shaken Rolf walked into her view behind Adolph. So, it was an evil twin rather than a personality disorder.

"This is her, I presume?" Adolph asked, looking down at Sawyer analytically. Rolf confirmed with a sad hum. The man was acting stranger than usual, like he was at a funeral. Sawyer almost wondered what was wrong with him.

Almost.

"I see," Adolph intoned. He gave Rolf permission to leave with a wave of his hand and the anxious twin sulked away. Adolph stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Not wasting any time, he proceeded to circle Sawyer like a hawk.

He regarded Sawyer with a subtle fascination. Rolf was not exaggerating when he told him she was young. The girl was still in her teens, and her ghost-like appearance gained a level of recognition as well. Her skin was severely pale. He immediately wondered if that was due to an abundance of make-up or if it natural.

Adolph stopped and stood directly in front of Sawyer. He leaned in, drastically invading her personal space, but she didn't back away. She just stared at him nonchalantly. What a repulsive man.

Adolph resisted smiling as he observed the girl's eyes. He sensed an ill, malevolent aura. There was something sinister, something twisted behind those hollow, chilling blue eyes. In all his years working in the Hostel, he had never seen such an expression on his employees. He thought he was gazing at a rarity. What sort of hell had this girl been through to achieve a look like that at such a young age?

He focused on the large scar on her neck and bit back another smile. Adolph's eyes drifted, noticing a cross pendant dangling from a silver chain. Interesting, what was this atrocious thing doing wearing one of these? He lifted his hand and cradled the cross in his palm, caressing it with his thumb.

"The cross," Adolph said inquiringly, maintaining eye contact with the ghost-like girl, "It is something that is seldom seen in this city. It is a symbol commonly associated with love, atonement, salvation... Do you know, little one, what was its original use?"

Sawyer refrained from sticking out her tongue and blowing a raspberry at him. She wasn't sure what this man was trying to accomplish with the topic of conversation, and she frankly didn't care, but she knew the answer to the question.

Disinterestedly, Sawyer reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out her electrolarynx. She pressed it to her throat and a small buzz was heard.

"**Torture device,**" she droned.

Adolph's eyes lit up with a smirk. That response was enough for him. He let go of her cross and dragged a finger along her jaw. She didn't flinch, still looking at him coldly.

"Tell me, little one, what is your name?" Adolph asked.

"**Sawyer**." Adolph raised his eyebrows. Sawyer, what an odd name for a girl. It matched perfectly. With a broad smile, he held the tip of her chin between his fingertips and laughed.

"Sawyer," he repeated heartily, "I think the two of us will get along splendidly."

* * *

**A/N:** Too much OC interaction, not enough Sawyer. Boooo! Don't worry, I'll make up for it in the next chapter.

_Grüß dich - _Hello/Greetings

_Gleichfalls - _Likewise

_Halts Maul! Du weißt wovon ich rede!_ - Shut up! You know what I speak of!

_Ich wäre entzückt darüber, dir die Zunge herauszuschneiden und dir den Mund zuzunähen. Das wäre interessant. Ich habe mich immer gefragt wie ich wohl aussehen würde, würde ich eine Nadel nehmen und mir Klavierdraht durch die Lippen ziehen... Würdest du das mögen, Rudolf?_ - I would be delighted to cut out your tongue and sew your mouth shut. That would be interesting. I have always wondered what I would look like if I took a needle and strung piano wire through my lips... Would you like that, Rudolf?

_Du bist an so vielen Morden beteiligt und hast noch immer Angst vor Blut. Armselig._ - Involved in the business of murder and you're still afraid of blood. Pathetic.

Just so you all know, my knowledge of the German language is _very _limited. I only know greetings, some pet names, and expletives. Everything from "Halts Maul!" and onwards was translated by my friend Lon, who lives in Germany. She's awesome. :)

Why use the name Adolph? In Chapter 59, Volume 8, Revy looks at Sawyer and says, "_Oi, Goth Girl! I didn't know you were Adolph's cleaner."_

"Adolph's cleaner." That was a random comment to me, so I suspect either something funky was going on with the translation or Revy was making a reference to something else entirely.

Whatever. I have it, I might as well use it.

Cheers.


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE: MOMMY'S LITTLE GIRL**

Adolph strode down the cleaning halls with Sawyer at his side. She was dressed in her surgeon's scrubs, but Adolph didn't lead her into any of the rooms. The man pointed to them as they walked by.

"This room is for burning, this room is for dismemberment, that room is where the cleaners change into their uniforms— I'm doubtful you will be using it due to your current boarding accommodations," Adolph added thoughtfully. The other cleaners recoiled as Adolph passed by, and the looks they gave Sawyer could only be described as a pitiful sneer. New meat for the wolf; it meant Adolph would take his focus off the rest of them for the time being.

Sawyer looked back down the hall as Adolph led her to the elevator.

"I'll go into detail about the cleaning rooms later." He sensed her confusion. "According to Rolf, you are already familiar with the functions of the cleaning quarters and standard methods of disposal. The room arrangements and placement of equipment may differ from what you are used to back in Europe, but it is by no means a major shift. I do not want to bore my newest employee." He placed his hands on her shoulders as they stepped into the elevator.

"I've something much more interesting to show you before you get to work, little one." He looked at his watch.

Sawyer huffed under her mask as the elevator went up to the third floor, wondering what Adolph had in mind. All she needed to do was cut up and dispose of bodies. What else was there for her to do?

They stepped out of the elevator after the "ding". Their shoes tapped against the hard floor, melting with the screams coming through the vents.

"Those uneducated pigs back in Europe didn't give you a proper history lesson behind our trade, did they?" Adolph was met with silence. He took it as his cue to go on. "Little one, the Hostel itself is relatively new, contemporary at best, born exactly two decades after the death of Stalin. The original branch was –coincidentally enough— from where you were transferred. It was a small scale operation to begin with, but like all good things, business increased and the Hostel spread throughout the underworld. However, this is naught more than a small detail of a grander purpose."

Adolph could not see her expression due to the mask and goggles, but he knew she was only listening to him him half-heartedly. He grinned. Typical teenager.

"The Hostel has serviced many in the time it has been established and it is a popular attraction in the criminal underworld, but it is the one sole purpose of its existence that allows it to thrive. What is the Hostel dedicated to? Businessmen and politicians? Frequent customers and gracious spenders, they are, but no. Money? A product of our services and a helpful resource, but that's not it either. No, no, little one; the Hostel's sole purpose, its reason for being, that which is it wholly dedicated to..." Adolph stopped in front of her and looked at his watch while he cupped his hand behind his ear. He gradually leaned towards a vent as the watch ticked away. After exactly ten seconds, there was a heart wrenching wail.

"Torture!" Adolph smiled and tapped the air for emphasis. He turned around and gestured for Sawyer to follow him further down the hallway. "I can think of nothing more grand in this world. It is an act born from the very depths of man's soul, its methods endless in possibility. It is a ritual that has evolved over time, going through processes of trial and error until it has been perfected into an art form unto itself. All cultures have produced their own devices, beautiful instruments dedicated to nothing more than carrying out their agendas, the purpose of their creation.

"Within these walls," Adolph said as he spread his arms, "I have a vast collection of such inventions, all functional and used regularly. I can say with absolutely no ego that this building contains more genuine torture devices than the museum in Carcassonne." Adolph stopped in front of a room at the end of the hall, unlocking it.

"This is not scheduled to be used until three weeks from today," he sighed as he flipped a switch. "What a shame it is not used more often, this is my favorite room. Go in, little one, the lesson is not done yet."

The room had tables on either side full of modern drills, saws, staple guns, hammers, screw drivers and large nails. In the center of the room was a chair screwed into the floor with straps on the arms and legs. Sawyer hesitated, but Adolph pushed her in and followed, locking the door behind them. He gripped Sawyer by the back of the neck and sat her down in the chair.

"Stay there. I believe it is easier for a student to learn when they are sitting down." He walked over to the table on her right. His back was turned to her and she could not see what he was grabbing. She wasn't afraid, but she was suspicious.

"As I said before, this is my favorite room," Adolph said, still deciding on a tool. He walked along the table. What would be suitable for her? Drill? No. Nail gun? No. Blow torch? Not quite...

"Now why, you ask, out of all of the rooms with elaborate themes and gorgeous instruments, would I favor something so crude? The answer is quite simple: Creativity. I admire the human ability to make use of what's available and use it to its full potential. Take... this chainsaw, for example." He turned around and presented the large, industrial-sized tool.

"It was not intended to be a device of torture or murder. Its creator intended for it to cut down trees. But it's seen in many fictional mediums, and here, of course, sawing its way through human tissue and bone. This and everything else you see in this room are not _meant_ to be instruments of murder, but they're still used as such anyway." He dropped the chainsaw in her lap and placed her hands on the engine block. He backed away and circled her like a vulture.

"Using a device that was intended for a wall or a tree on a _human,_ it's quite demoralizing isn't it? It would be one thing if a person was put to death with a gun or a bomb, at least those were intended for humans. But that chainsaw you hold? Oh, that is truly terrifying. Torture and murder are intimate acts, the worst of all crimes, the worst of all sins. To consciously make another human being suffer at your own hands before making them die is a horrendous ritual, absolutely, astonishingly atrocious in nature." Adolph grabbed the sides of the chair and leaned in toward her face.

"And we act as though it never happened."

Sawyer didn't understand.

"You're a cleaner, little one," Adolph clarified, "It's your job to take care of the corpse that is produced from these terrible acts. When you dispose of a body and clean up the area where the murder took place, you're not just getting rid of an empty shell. Whenever you dispose of a body, you're saying you don't care what the person who once inhabited that body went through, you don't care what they endured, you don't care what they had suffered.

"However, not many can grasp the entire concept of apathy. They get the idea, but they can't _comprehend_ it. I truly believe, little one, that in order to obtain the utmost apathy, one must fully understand the depravity of the human mind, and the only way one can understand the depravity of the human mind... is to perform the acts yourself. Then, and only then, can one detach themselves fully. Until that concept is grasped, they're not a _cleaner_. They're just the equivalent of wannabe mortician." Adolph snarled with a rude smirk.

Sawyer resisted scoffing at him. "Comprehending apathy." Who did this man think he was talking to?

Adolph straightened his posture and looked at his watch.

"Ah! It's going to get dark soon. This is the perfect time to take you for a tour around the city. The warehouse district is too far out, but I can take you to Ransaap Street and Nankwai for now. Take the chainsaw with you. Those areas will be good for your street training."

Sawyer was taken aback. Hold on, street training?

Adolph laughed as he saw her slump in the chair.

"Sawyer, Sawyer, Sawyer..." He pulled her out of the seat and patted her on the back, "You thought you only had to work in the basement level? They didn't teach you anything in Europe, did they? I suppose it is because you are so young. The Hostel in Roanapur provides more for this city than a murder vacation. Our services reach out to many criminal factions, and a little bit of street cleaning hasn't hurt our business either." He unlocked the door and pushed Sawyer down the hall excitedly by her shoulders.

"Oh, yes, you will be doing some literal cleaning in the torture chambers as well. The blood doesn't wash off itself. Not only are you required to clean them, but I expect you to learn each and every detail about the rooms too. Themes, devices, _everything_. I like to keep my cleaners knowledgeable and versatile. In addition to this..." Adolph paused as he tapped the elevator button.

"Because you are so young, I'm going to create some special assignments for you. Not only will I test you on the rooms and devices, but I will take the time to create work sheets and a give you a journal to write notes in. Think of it as your anatomical homework."

Sawyer took a deep breath and tried not to pull on the ripcord of the chainsaw as they elevator doors closed.

"Don't be so bitter, little one," Adolph lectured, patting Sawyer on the head and taking the chainsaw out of her hands. "You are young; you still need an education. It would horrible if I were to let that mind go to waste."

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Sawyer was in the process of filling out her last work sheet, lying on her bed. She had been working for Adolph for six months now. She was in a disgruntled state for her first two weeks in Roanapur, annoyed at not being able to spend as much time in the cleaning quarters as she would have liked, but she had gradually gotten used to the routine. Perhaps she was being cynical, but she acknowledged that the tours around the city definitely helped her familiarize herself with Roanapur and its residents more quickly.

As much as she loathed to admit it, the new skills Adolph had taught her over the months proved to be very useful, and she enjoyed implementing them. Not long after she memorized all of the room themes and their devices, Adolph decided to add more "subjects" into her studies. He would take her to one of the torture chambers and there would always be some poor soul bound to a table or hanging from the ceiling, still alive.

"Don't make the incision too deep, you don't want him to bleed to death just yet. — See the heart beating? Grab it, feel the pulse. — Just peel off the skin like you would the hide of an animal. — Take the drill, don't put it in too far. You don't want to damage the brain before you saw off the top of the skull." So on and so forth. She didn't like to admit it, but the instructions were helpful, and she found the assignments given to her to be intriguing. It was rarely ever monotonous.

She assumed these experiments were the reasons for her co-workers' behaviors. They all seemed traumatized beyond repair, though some were bold enough to still tease her whenever she was working in the cleaning quarters, whether it was for her age or appearance or Adolph's apparent fascination with her, but once she brutally chopped apart the extra "limb" of a body with angel lust, they all backed off.

Sawyer sighed as she answered the final question. She was the only cleaner who had to fill out a pile of work sheets. Sawyer despised the "anatomical homework"; it was absolutely unnecessary. She could learn and retain the information regarding anatomy and murder without having to do it. She purposefully made the handwriting next to illegible just to make it difficult for Adolph to decipher her answers. Yet the man still somehow managed to read them.

She wasn't very fond of taking notes either. Not one page was without a doodle or two along the margins, products of her boredom. She had once drawn a decapitated pig's head wearing a traditional Alpine hat on a plate and labeled it "Adolph." The man found it while he examined her notes, but instead of taking offense, he just threw his head back and laughed. He then ripped the page out, placed it in his pocket and made her write the notes all over again.

She was about to crumple her papers in annoyance, but the knock at the door saved the work sheets. She hopped off the bed and opened the door. It was Rolf. The man looked sullen and stressed, as always.

"Adolph wants you meet him in his office immediately." Sawyer gave him a perplexed glance.

"He will tell you why, just go," he said bleakly.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

"I was once a clerk at the worst youth hostel in Amsterdam." A woman that appeared to be in her late fifties, her pale hair was in dreadlocks and the thick eyeliner was applied unevenly. Underneath her name tag were the words "Assistant Manager." She was sitting across from a clerk, a young man in his early thirties. There was a bottle of schnapps and three glasses resting on the table. She took a drag from the cigarette before she went on.

"Not a torture resort like this place, but simply working at that hell hole should have been a crime. There was one medium sized room with 70 beds. There were no restrooms. Nor were there any near by. If they didn't want their valuables stolen, I was personally obligated to suggest that the guests discard them at that precise moment. They could have also tried hiding them up their ass, but that, of course, deterred most but not all thieves. When it was seven o'clock at night, the doors were chained on the outside and were not unlocked until morning. There was also a fireworks factory upstairs. That place was a death trap!"

"Okay, Vanna, no more schnapps for you..."

"I'm serious, Daan!"

"Sure you are. So, how long 'til Rolf gets back?"

"Hell if I know. He went down to the butchering place again. Poor dear, he gets so pale whenever he goes there."

"He's always like that around Adolph," Daan noted, pouring himself a glass.

"He's been in this business for so long." Vanna blew a smoke ring. "We don't have to deal with any bodies ourselves, but..."

"He's afraid of blood, and he's afraid of Adolph," said Daan bluntly.

"The two go hand-in-hand. I cannot blame him for his fears, but I wonder what happened between them to make him that way," said Vanna.

"I heard that when they were kids, they lived on a farm. Adolph filled a bathtub with pigs' blood and dumped Rolf into it. Scarred him for life."

"That's not what I heard," Vanna interjected, "When they were ten, Adolph found the body of a small girl in an alley, beaten to death. He dragged Rolf to see it and made him touch the corpse."

"You're full of it."

"Oh, and you think your bathtub yarn is logical? Do you even _know_ if they lived on a farm?"

"That was just one story I _heard_," Daan clarified, "There's another one. They—"

"Enough, both of you." Vanna and Daan turned their heads and saw Rolf leaning on the door frame. He looked tired.

"Back from the slaughterhouse, I see. Take a seat." Daan kicked out a chair. Rolf rubbed his temples as he sat down.

"What happened back there? Care to tell us about it?" Daan asked. Vanna kicked him under the table and Rolf glared. Of all the stupid things to say...

"Had to discuss finances with Adolph. All the while, he couldn't contain himself when he boasted about his student. Eventually made me play messenger and I told her to meet him in his office."

"Student?" Daan asked.

"That ghost girl, you mean?" asked Vanna. Rolf nodded. "Never see her around here, but I've heard Adolph has taken a liking to her."

"He treats her like she's his daughter," Rolf sneered, "Doesn't stop talking about her, can't restrain himself from bragging about her achievements." Vanna and Daan grimaced.

"She hasn't cracked like the others, I take it," said Daan.

"From the way Adolph describes it to me, she enjoys it, but it's... detached. A sadistic little bitch, that stare of hers..." Rolf hung his head low. "It reminds me of when we were children, Adolph and I. He would always take little animals and torture them. They would struggle and struggle and I could swear I heard them cry, but he just kept laughing and laughing, cutting them apart until the cries stopped. He would force me to go out and find more for him. If I did anything otherwise, he would hold me down and smear the blood all over my face. Time went on, Adolph grew bigger, and so did his prey..." He muttered something in German. They couldn't understand.

Daan took the bottle and poured Rolf a shot. He held the glass out to him. Rolf grabbed the bottle and took a large swig.

"That girl," Rolf assessed, "There's something wrong with her."

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Sawyer sat in front of the large mahogany desk, looking around the office. Her nose crinkled as she smelled something strange in the air. She couldn't quite identify the scent.

"Sawyer, I must say, I am impressed with your progress over these past six months." Adolph's chair was turned away from her. "You've accomplished every task I've given you with flying colors. I think that warrants a celebration, don't you?"

He turned in his seat and revealed he was holding two plates with what looked to be large steaks covered in a special sauce. He set the plates down and gestured for her to pick up the utensils. Sawyer looked at the meat suspiciously. That scent...

"What is that look for, little one? I can assure you it's not poisoned." Adolph took a small cut out of her meal and ate it to prove his point. Still wary, Sawyer picked up the utensils and cut a piece for herself. She hesitantly brought the morsel up to her mouth, and the corners of Adolph's mouth tightened.

Just as Sawyer was about to take a bite, she got a good whiff. A memory flashed before her eyes.

"_Hey, Fred-Fred! Come over here and help your Uncle Drayton sell some of his special chili at the gas station!"_

She dropped the fork. That scent!

"What's the matter, little one?" Adolph asked.

Sawyer gripped the ends of the desk, her glare like that of a feral cat's. That sick bastard. She recognized that smell now.

Human flesh, Adolph was trying to feed her human flesh.

Sawyer threw her plate across the room, taking the head off of a skeleton before it shattered against the wall. She took out her electrolarynx with a snarl, pointing to the meal sitting in front of Adolph. Her left eye twitched.

"**Do not ever... try to do this... to me again...**"

Without another word, she stormed out of the office. Adolph was genuinely surprised. Of all the reactions, that was the last one he expected to see from her. She was normally quite dour.

Looking at the skeleton she beheaded, his lips twitched into a smirk before he laughed derisively, kicking the floor and striking the desk. No matter, he was satisfied with how the events turned out. The entire purpose of this meal was to see her devour the meat. However, judging by how she already identified human flesh prepared for consumption... Had she engaged in cannibalism in the past? Was she forced to do it?

With a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame, Adolph ate his meal in silence.

It didn't taste like chicken.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

"There is a word we Germans have: _schadenfreude._ It means 'to take pleasure in the misfortune of others'," Rolf explained.

"That's nice," Daan said sarcastically.

"Sad, isn't it? Something like that having a word to describe it," Rolf said. "It joins the ranks of 'sadism'."

"What do you think turns people that way?" Vanna drawled absentmindedly, looking at the ceiling. "Something so screwed up, you would wish to torture a person just to make them suffer. No money, no information, just their misery."

"Nothing _turns_ a person that way," Rolf spat. "They are _born_ that way."

Vanna and Daan knitted their eyebrows.

"Adolph is a sociopath, always has been and always will be. We grew up together in the same household, but you don't see me hacking prostitutes and tourists for personal enjoyment. There's something in the mind, something evil," Rolf tapped his temple, "Just like that girl. I was wary of what Adolph would do to her, but now I see she's of the same breed. I would never believe such an atrocity was once an innocent child. A ghost, that's all she is. A cold spirit that wanders the world. The look in her eyes say it all. That girl was born dead."

"Aren't you being harsh?" Vanna asked. "Hair and eye color are things people are born with, but sadism? Evil? People don't just wake up one morning and go on a killing spree. There has to be an event that influenced the person to go in that direction. Maybe that girl just had a bad home life or something. Perhaps if she had been raised with love and care in stable family—"

"She would have still turned out that way," Rolf said sternly. Daan and Vanna were shocked. They had no idea Rolf was so bitter.

"I don't favor words like 'what if' or 'could have been'. It is what it is, from birth until death. I would have to hear quite an impressive tale to believe someone could be _turned_ that way."

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Sawyer slammed the door shut and ran to her bed, curling into the fetal position and clutching the pillow to her chest. Damn Adolph! That cannibal catastrophe brought back all those memories.

She closed her eyes and controlled her breathing, trying to lull herself to sleep. The memories, all she wanted right now was for them to go away. Perhaps if she got some rest, they wouldn't be there in the morning...

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

**Many years ago, in the middle of Texas...**

_Crickets chirped in the night as a little girl no more than four years old searched underneath the back seat of battered station wagon. Her flashlight revealed a thin book. She reached out to grab it._

_"Goddamnit, Fred-Fred! It's dinnertime! I dun wanna spend all night babysittin'! Hurry your ass up or I'm leavin' ya to be food for the coyotes!" The vehicle shook as her cousin Gunny Tom kicked the side. Having found what she was looking for, Fred-Fred hopped out of the car, her short, curly black hair bouncing with each step as she ran past her fourteen year old relative, set on getting back to Sawyer ranch._

_"You an' those damn books," Gunny Tom cursed, "Dun know what ya keep collectin' 'em for, ya can't read."_

_They took a shortcut through the woods, arriving at their homestead in a matter of minutes. Screams and laughter mixed together in the colonnaded house._

_"Sounds like it's gettin' to the good part," Gunny Tom leered. He walked up the front steps, but little Fred-Fred didn't follow. Instead, she went around the house, heading towards the shed with her book. Gunny Tom squinted and fingered the scar on his chin. She was going to skip dinner again?_

_He snorted and spat on the porch, opening the door. Fuck her. Let Fred-Fred go see that bitch-hog. More food for him._

_Fred-Fred opened the shed, chickens scattering as she stepped in. She passed by the bloodied gardening tools on the work bench, skipping by the rusted meat hooks dangling above. She made her way to a small, iron barred pigpen in a corner, hidden by bales of hay, unhooking the lock. She swung the small door open and saw someone sleeping in the middle._

_The woman was starved and frighteningly pale, covered head-to-toe in scars and bruises, nails packed with dirt and grime, her dark hair tangled and matted. There were thick chains wrapped around her neck, ankles and wrists. If it weren't for the ratty blanket covering her body, she would have been stark naked._

_Fred-Fred lightly shook the woman's shoulder._

_"Mommy."_

_The woman groaned, taking her time to open her eyes. She struggled to sit upright, bolts of pain surging through her arms as she tried to prop herself up. There were dark purple rings underneath her dark blue eyes, a solemn expression on her face._

_"Frederica, what are you doing up so late? You should be sleeping." The woman's tone was flat, emotionless, and it had no traces of a Southern drawl._

_Fred-Fred held the book out to her with a hopeful gaze._

_"Oh, sweetie, I'm so tired. I don't know if I can read a story right now," said her mother. Fred-Fred's lip trembled and she whined, stomping her feet on the ground in a sporadic dance._

_"No, no, don't do that," said her mother monotonously, lifting a shaking hand and moving it side to side._

_Fred-Fred didn't listen. She continued to throw a tantrum, finally throwing the book past her mother's head. It hit the wall with a loud "SMACK!" The dance went on until she saw that her mother's solemn expression didn't change. The tantrum eventually faded and Fred-Fred settled to a gentle sway, holding her arms at her sides. She wasn't sure if her mother was going to give her what she wanted._

_"Are you done?" asked her mother. Fred-Fred cutely nibbled on her thumb and looked to the side._

_"Where did you learn that from, your daddy?" As much as the woman wished she could express disdain, her tone was nothing more than somber. It was appropriate, it matched how she felt._

_"That's not good, Frederica. I don't want to see you doing that. Only bad girls do that to get what they want. Are you a bad girl?" Fred-Fred looked at her and shook her head._

_"You promise not to do that in front of me anymore? Are you going to be good girl for Mommy?" Fred-Fred nodded. The woman wished she could smile at her daughter, she was adorable. The woman picked up the book, paying no attention to the title._

_"Very well, Frederica, since you're a good girl, I'll read the story. After that, I want you to go straight to sleep, okay?" Fred-Fred uttered a sound of satisfaction and sat in her mother's lap, handing her the flashlight. The woman suppressed a growl at the sudden soreness in her thighs._

_"Let's see, what's the story tonight?" Her mother directed the light towards the title of the book. Hansel and Gretel. How cruelly appropriate._

_She read the book to Fred-Fred, going through the tale of two children who eventually got lost in the middle of the woods and took up residence with a cannibal..._

_"... They returned home and lived happily ever after. The end." She closed the book and looked down at her little Frederica. She was snuggled up against her chest, sound asleep. She lightly pet the top of her head. Sadly, the silence was not to last and she heard cries coming from the house. Fred-Fred didn't wake up._

_The woman set the book aside and turned off the flashlight. So that's how Frederica obtained another book. That clan of psychopaths got a hold of more victims. She probably harvested it from the "guests'" car. How tragic._

_The woman stared at Fred-Fred, barely making out a silhouette. Moving carefully, she rested her cheek on top of her daughter's head and listened to the agonizing screams, running a hand up and down her back._

_"I should have killed you," she whispered, making sure not to wake her. "The moment I found out I was pregnant, I should have killed you. I should have hit myself, I should have stuck a pitchfork in my gut, I should have done something to cause a miscarriage... but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Your father raped me, but there was this little voice in my head that kept reminding me that no matter what, you were still mine. I couldn't stand the thought of taking your life, I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing you at least once. I was weak, and I was selfish._

_"Then that day came when you were born. It hurt; oh, God, it hurt, but after so long, you finally arrived and I held you in my arms. You were so beautiful, and for first time, since I was locked up here, I felt happy. When I laid eyes on you, I was finally at peace. My daughter, I had finally met my daughter... But then they ripped you out of my arms, and they laughed. The euphoria was gone, and I cried. My moment of happiness, replaced by overwhelming grief. When I saw them walk away with you, all I could think was, 'My God, what kind of life are you going to have?'_

_"Maybe if you were born in a loving family with a villa under a clear blue sky, you'd be a normal little girl, but that's not the life you were given. Your were born into a clan of predators on a ranch at midnight. You are the daughter of a chainsaw wielding monster and a woman who got lost in the middle of the woods and was taken captive by a family of cannibals, a woman who is now chained up in a shed and treated as nothing more than a mangy animal waiting out her final days._

_"I love you, Frederica, but that won't be enough, not in this family. It kills me, but I know you're going to be a murderer. You may not be exactly like them when you're grown, but I know you will be troubled, and I know you will still draw blood."_

_She looked back down at Fred-Fred. She was still asleep._

_As the screams subsided and the Sawyer family celebrated next door, she kissed the top of her daughter's head and cradled her small body._

_"Oh, Frederica, what Hell did I bring you into?"_

* * *

**A/N:** I told you all there were going to be TCM flashbacks coming.

All I can say is that Vanna is a Eurotrip reference, and for those of you who aren't aware of the collaboration I did with Amigodude, Bloodlust, Gunny Tom was a character in that story.

After reading the flashback, I'm not even going to say my usual "Cheers." That section was too depressing.


	4. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR: CAKE AT MIDNIGHT**

The pegboard was loaded with a variety of manual saws and hammers. Scalpels, nails, syringes, chisels, and butcher knives were arranged in a neat line on the table below. A large, stuffed duffel bag wiggled in the center of the room.

One year. That's how long she had been in Roanapur as of tonight. She nudged the duffel bag with her foot, then she kicked it. The bag jerked and turned over.

"Now, now, little one, have more finesse than that," Adolph chided as he gripped her arm and pulled her away. "Let me explain my gift to you."

A gift. Adolph had pulled her away from the main cleaning quarters and dragged her to one of the torture chambers. He had said something about celebrating a "cleaning anniversary." Ever since the cannibalistic fiasco, Sawyer was wary.

"You've progressed effortlessly in your time here, little one. All of my assignments, all of my tests... Every instruction, every method, every technique I've shown you has been executed with clinical precision. In the single year you have resided here, you've surpassed those who have worked under me for a decade in both skill and experience. You truly are gifted, little one. Which is why I present you with this." He walked over to the duffel bag and unzipped it.

Unsurprisingly, there was a man inside. He burst out of the bag, bound and gagged, wearing nothing more than his underwear. The man appeared to be in his early thirties, a tattoo of a tiger and dragon on both of his arms. A Triad? Or was it wannabe? The goggles of her surgical attire hid any emotion, but Adolph could feel an almost quizzical aura coming from her. What was so special about this?

"As you know, the Hostel not only provides services for people who wish to experience a torture vacation, but we work for the city and syndicates within. Normally, when a gang brings in a body for us to dispose of, and provided the body is still alive, we put it to use in these chambers before they head to the cleaning halls. However, every once in a while, we get _special_ orders..." Adolph smirked and stroked his goatee. The bound man whimpered through the gag.

"Mr. Chang, you know of him, do you not?" Sawyer nodded. Of course she had heard of the Triad boss, even managed to catch a glimpse of the man on occasion on her more mundane outings in the city. Anyone who had spent even so much as a month in Roanapur had to have at least heard of Mr. Chang. The man was an icon in his own right. Even Sawyer, who normally regarded others as mere objects, had respect for him.

"Oftentimes, he will send a body to us, and it will need to be made example of. Even with a reputation as well established as Mr. Chang's, there are still many fools who try to cross him. Not a good idea," Adolph said with a wag of his finger, "These jobs require an expert's touch, not some businessman on vacation who can't even locate an appendix. _I _have always taken these jobs, and I have yet to receive a poor review, but...

"Perhaps it's time I share these duties." Adolph grinned as he stepped behind Sawyer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Should you accept this job, of course." Sawyer shrugged. Whatever.

"I will take that as a 'yes'," Adolph grinned. "I want to make this clear, little one. This is not the usual disposal job you are used to. Not used to it _now_, anyway." He strode leisurely to the bound man again, circling him, but Adolph's eyes were focused on Sawyer.

"This man, he's an idiot. Part of smaller Triad that's just moved in and trying to step on the 14K's toes. Mr. Chang, being a very reasonable man, won't waste time and bullets if he does not deem it necessary. The cleaners are the first resort. The body is dropped off to us, and we give a warning. This will send the message to the receiving party to take their business elsewhere and steer clear of our client. In order to send the proper warning, we must make an example of things like this," Adolph pointed to the gangster on the floor, "However, in order to achieve the desired effect, you must understand the mindset of the people the warning is being sent to. In this case, we're sending this to a lesser Triad."

Never breaking eye contact with Sawyer, Adolph stepped on the chest of doomed gangster, digging his heel into the diaphragm.

"The Chinese, such a fascinating culture with a rich history. I recall a historical record, one of my favorite stories," Adolph lifted his right hand in a grand gesture. "Long, long ago, there was a man who went by the title of King Zhao. He was the last ruler of the Shang dynasty. A good king, a great leader, his kingdom was prosperous under his rule... until he met a woman.

"Her name was Da Ji. King Zhao took her as a concubine, and he was spellbound by her beauty. This infatuation quickly turned into obsession. He dedicated himself to spending every waking moment with her. Da Ji liked animals, so he built her a personal zoo with many rare species. She liked singing and dancing, so he demanded that music accompanied with bawdy dances be performed for her taste. There was a point when he organized an event that gathered thousands to partake in a game of cat and mouse in the nude so Da Ji would be amused. When a maid of honor expressed her disgust at this vile display that Da Ji delighted, King Zhou had the maiden slain and ground her father to a pulp. He proceeded to feed the flesh to his vassals.

"But among all this, the one thing Da Ji loved above all things was the pain and torment of others. She would have people dismembered on a whim, chopping off an old man's feet and making him walk on ice, ripping out a heart to examine the chambers, cutting the belly of a pregnant woman to see what happened within, all so she could analyze the situation and indulge herself in their suffering. Da Ji even invented a method of torture. There was a bronze cylinder heated with fire and coal, much like a furnace, and it would be covered in oil. Then a man would attempt to walk on the burning device, struggling to balance on the boiling oil. If he maintained his position on the cylinder, he would be baked to a crisp. If he couldn't find his balance, he slipped into the fire below. He would dance on the coals in agony until he died. Da Ji would laugh, and King Zhao laughed with her.

"King Zhou's obsession with pleasing Da Ji made him neglect his kingly duties, and a rival tribe grew stronger. Despite the tribe's deep seated hatred of King Zhou, Boyi Kao, the first born son of the tribe's leader, Ji Chang, had an affair with Da Ji. King Zhou discovered this and had Kao butchered, and forced Ji Chang to devour a soup of Kao's flesh and blood before he was placed in jail, only to be released two years later due to vigorous bribery. Ji Fa, the youngest son of Ji Chang, carried out revenge against the tyrant Zhao twelve years later.

"The people's own disgust and revulsion of King Zhao and Da Ji allowed Ji Fa to defeat the tyrant with ease. King Zhao knew this was the end of his dynasty, but he couldn't bear to see his empire fall into ruin. He committed suicide and set himself on fire. A fitting end for a man destined to rot in hell.

"And Da Ji? The woman who started it all? Sentenced to death, but her legacy does not end there.

"Da Ji had proven to be such a notorious figure, an epic fantasy novel written in the Ming dynasty portrayed her as the major antagonist. _Feng Shen Yanyi_, I believe it was. In this literary piece, Da Ji is depicted as the incarnation of a powerful fox spirit. The goddess Nu Wa herself sent Da Ji to trigger the end of the Shang dynasty. Can you believe it? The goddess credited with creating mankind condemning an empire. Da Ji took the form of a maiden by possession and carried out her task, but after the Shang dynasty fell, Nu Wa went back on the promise of immortality she had made to Da Ji. Nu Wa deemed that Da Ji was excessive with her goal, and the goddess had no choice but to put the fox spirit to death. Pity."

"**What is... the point of... this story?**" Sawyer asked, tired of Adolph's rambling. She didn't see what these tales had to do with making an example of the gangster beneath Adolph's feet.

"I'm getting to it, little one." Adolph's smirk never wavered. "Da Ji is one, if not _the_ most vile of the women recorded in China's history. Her depravity was so grand, so epic, so _legendary_, she was viewed as a beast with no other purpose in life than to cause corruption, chaos, and destruction. She may not have literally been a wicked spirit, but she will always be remembered as such, and therein lies my point."

Adolph stepped off of the Triad, and the gangster gasped and coughed. Adolph leaned in towards Sawyer, his nose almost touching her own.

"Da Ji sounds to be something concocted from naught more than a nightmare, but she was very real. She is a figure in the pages of China's past, and it is there she will always reside. Stories like those of Da Ji are part of China's history. As such, they are events that are present in the back of the heads of the people from the culture of whence they originated." Adolph tapped the side of his head for emphasis.

"My point is, little one, with stories like that ingrained in their minds, you need to do something very impressive to intimidate a Triad." Adolph got out of Sawyer's face and straightened his posture, clearing his throat.

"Unlike previous assignments, I will not be instructing you here. This is something you must do for yourself. I am giving you this task to test your mettle. I am satisfied with your work so far, but you must be able to prove yourself to others without my guidance in order to advance further in this business. It is a risk letting you do so, as this is putting my own reputation on the line, but I am confident in your abilities. And I don't deem it likely you would botch a job just to spite me. It's not your style." Adolph smiled and pinched Sawyer's cheek beneath her mask.

"If it is an added incentive, you will be paid handsomely if you do well here. You could use that money for luxuries; more books, new clothes... video games." Adolph could not hide the disdain in his voice. He would never understand the appeal of the last items mentioned.

Sawyer batted his hand away. Enough. A job was a job. She would do whatever was necessary.

Taking this as a cue to leave, Adolph moved towards the door.

"Remember, little one, this is your first impression for the major syndicates. Make it count!" With nothing more said, he shut the door behind him.

By this point, the feeble gangster was huddled in a corner, shivering, tears streaming down his face. Sawyer reached for the ripcord of her chainsaw, but stopped mid-way and looked at the tools on the table and peg board. Make it count. This was to be a message, not just disposal.

With an empty smile behind the white mask, Sawyer grabbed a butcher knife.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

"Wonder what ever happened to Ji," muttered a man in Cantonese, throwing down a tile. He and a group of other males were gathered around the table. Other members lounged in the cramped area. The place reeked of cheap incense and cigarettes.

"Heard he went to a whore house not too far from Lachada Street, got kidnapped by a freelancer hired by Chang," commented another man at his side.

"That knife bitch in the red qipao?" asked the third male.

"Probably," answered the first.

"Kidnapped my ass," said the fourth, "Ji probably gave her too much trouble. He always had a one track mind." The man pointed to his crotch.

"But I heard she's allied with the 14K," confirmed the third man. "Got a message not too long ago. If we know what's good for us, we'll stay off of their turf... or else." He didn't sound intimidated.

"How frightening," droned the second with a smirk.

There were loud bangs against the door and what sounded like a large box being dropped. As a truck sped away, they opened the door and saw a large wooden crate with blood leaking out of the bottom.

"Shit," muttered the first male, "I guess we all know what happened to Ji."

"Nothing we haven't seen before. Lee Kwan pulled a trick like this back in Hong Kong."

"Let's pop it open and make sure it's Ji in there. No use worrying over a corpse if it belongs to a pig," said the third man with a crowbar in hand. He placed it underneath the lid and applied pressure. "Really, a box? Amateur at best. They probably just shot him and stuffed him in..."

The man dropped the crowbar to cover his mouth. Vomit leaked out of the gaps between his fingers. The surrounding members recoiled and some lost control of their bladders.

It was Ji, or whatever was left of him. His lips had been skinned off, showing the yellow teeth. There were large cuts reaching from the corners of his mouth to his ears, resembling an eerie smile. The skin around his eyes was removed, revealing the tissue beneath, but the eyes themselves were left intact, staring ahead, the milky white color standing out against the thin, red muscle. His arms and legs were missing, and the torso was slashed open, most of the organs missing, ribs forced apart and sticking out further than what nature intended. The only remaining organs, the intestines, were strewn around his form with obscene purpose, wrapping the mutilated corpse like tinsel around a Christmas tree.

Taped to inner side of the wooden lid was a small note. "**HAVE A NICE DAY.**" There was a smiley face underneath the text.

They got the message.

After placing the lid back on with trembling hands, the men looked at the box in horror.

What kind of sick beast would do something like that to another human being?

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

_"Do you want a cup a' tea, Fred-Fred?" chirped a young girl in a pink prairie dress with blonde hair tied in braids. Fred-Fred didn't give an answer. Her head was resting in her folded arms on the table, disinterested. A stuffed teddy bear missing one of its eyes sat on Fred-Fred's right, while a plastic doll with a dress similar to what the blonde girl was wearing sat on her left. They were sitting at a small table in the attic, bones covering every inch of the floor, the poorly preserved corpse of their great-grandmother sitting in a rocking chair in the corner. _

"_Fred-Fred! I said, 'Do you want a cup a' tea?'" asked the blonde girl with a huff, holding the plastic tea pot. Fred-Fred lifted her head and stuck out her tongue._

"_You're mean!" _

_Fred-Fred blew a raspberry at her cousin Jenny in response. Fred-Fred hated tea parties. It wasn't anything like dinnertime. So boring._

"_Ya want some tea, don't ya, Teddy?" Jenny asked the stuffed animal, ignoring her cousin and pouring an imaginary cup. "You, too, Ms. Hardesty!" She poured a cup for the doll. Fred-Fred smacked Ms. Hardesty's cup off of the table into a pile of femurs._

"_Get it back," Jenny commanded. Fred-Fred placed her head back on top of her arms. Jenny's nose crinkled. "I'm older 'an you. Ya hafta listen to me!" Jenny was met with another raspberry._

"_You're retarded, just like yer dad," Jenny giggled derisively, grabbing Fred-Fred's teacup and giving it to the doll. "Bet ya don't know how to talk."_

_Fred-Fred glared. She wasn't retarded. She knew how to talk, and thanks to the nightly visits to her mother, she knew the entire alphabet too. It's just that she only spoke around her parents. Cousin Jenny wasn't worth the words._

_Fred-Fred grabbed Ms. Hardesty by the hair. Jenny gasped._

"_Fred-Fred, you put her down, right now!"_

_Fred-Fred gripped the doll's body with her other hand and Jenny began to panic._

"_No, no, no, no, no! DON'T DO IT! SHE'S MINE!"_

_With a small smile, Fred-Fred pulled off Ms. Hardesty's head with pop. There was a body without a head and a girl beginning to cry. Now the tea party felt just like dinner._

"_NOOO!" Jenny wailed. Fred-Fred rolled Ms. Hardesty's head back and forth across the table. With a sniffle, Jenny spat at her._

"_Y-you're just jealous a' me," Jenny taunted, "My daddy isn't retarded and my mommy isn't in the shed, like a... like a... like a bitch-hog. That's what yer mom is, a bitch-hog. That's why she's locked in a pen."_

_Fred-Fred's smile disappeared. She threw the doll head aside and pounced._

_Uncle Charlie and Uncle Drayton snapped their heads to the ceiling as they heard a high-pitched screech._

"_Sounds like Jenny," Drayton muttered, stirring the pot full of his special chili._

"_Must 'afta do with Fred-Fred. Goddamnit, that girl..." _

_Sheriff Hoyt, a.k.a. Uncle Charlie, left the kitchen and went into the living room. He proceeded to storm up the stairs and stomp across the second floor of the house before going up more steps that led to Fred-Fred's room, the attic. He slammed the door open and saw Fred-Fred on top of Jenny, her small, pale fists coming down, one blow after the other as Jenny screamed. _

"_Damn it, Fred-Fred!" The fake sheriff ripped her off of Jenny and the blonde girl dashed out of the room crying. The man hit Fred-Fred across the face with the back of his hand._

"_The fuck is wrong with you, girl? You don't beat the shit outta family!" _

_She looked to the side, avoiding eye contact with her uncle. It wasn't out of shame, it wasn't out of regret. It was anger, resentment. Her lip had cracked open from the hit and blood dripped down her chin._

_With an exasperated sigh, Uncle Charlie set her down on the floor and left the room. Jenny probably did something to piss her off, but he knew the problem ran deeper than that. He needed to do something about this._

"_Jenny's cryin' like hell down 'ere! The fuck happened? Don't wipe yer nose on me, ya lil' bitch!" Gunny Tom shouted from the living room. Uncle Charlie came down the steps and shook his head._

"_Gotta do somethin' 'bout Fred-Fred," Uncle Charlie drawled, "The girl's cravin' blood. Can see it in her eyes. Gettin' worse every day. Even that dumbass Nubbins sees it when she's helpin' him with his art projects." Uncle Charlie pushed a mobile of human bones hanging from the ceiling out of his way._

"_We gonna kill 'er?" Gunny Tom cackled. He yowled in pain as he felt something run over his foot._

"_**We're not... doin' that...**__" Mama Sawyer rolled into the room, confined to a wheel chair and being pushed by Uncle Tech. The speaker Tech had installed in the stoma in her throat allowed her to talk. "__**Her birthday... is gettin' close...**__"_

"_She's only gonna be five," Drayton said, poking his head out from the kitchen. "You sure she's ready for that?"_

"_Blood initiation doesn't start 'til at least ten years," Charlie pointed out, "But... Fred-Fred's been gettin' antsy lately. Has a downright creepy look when she's at dinner. Doesn't just wanna watch. Almost as bad as her daddy. I say we let her get her first kill this year. Maybe drawin' blood'll calm her down some. Tech, get a gizmo ready. She ain't strong enough to handle a saw all by herself yet."_

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Adolph whistled a tune as he sorted through the papers on his desk. Rolf was utterly dumbfounded.

"WHAT?"

"Quiet, Rudolf, it's a secret."

"Are you aware she has only been in Roanapur for... n-not even two years?"

"One year and eight months as of next week," Adolph specified, "All this time has passed and I'm still impressed by the work that marked her one year assignment. Work from Chang has been more frequent. He's quite impressed with the impact 'the Cleaner' has had on his enemies and clientèle. Word is getting out around the city as well. I need some way to celebrate this."

"Schnapps is a way to celebrate. Don't you think _this_ is excessive? You're talking about giving her a business. I don't even think she's eighteen."

"Age is but a number. By the time the date of the event comes to light, she will have the experience, skill and knowledge necessary to carry it out. I placed budgeting and financial management into her work sheets. She's not fond of it, but she does it well."

"It would be one thing if you were talking about expanding the business, but this is a completely separate matter," Rolf placed his hand on his forehead.

"Rolf, there are very good reasons for this. Wonderful as it is having her work here, I feel she needs to move on. The chick can't stay in the nest forever. That abandoned abattoir is perfect for her."

"You're going to let go of your best cleaner in a few months because of that?" Rolf asked skeptically.

"No, not entirely,"Adolph admitted, "I'm getting old, Rolf. My hands hurt. The arthritis is getting worse. The medication is wasted money. All those years of using power tools as implements have taken their toll. I cannot hold a scalpel without there being an ache in my joints. How ironic is it, brother? Picking up a torture device brings _me _pain.

"It is also getting increasingly difficult to balance the business that comes in through the murder vacations and the business that comes from the city and criminal factions. The sole purpose of the Hostel is the vacations. The gangs and street cleaning are just extra change. It would be better for my health if the duties of the former were passed onto another individual."

"We're going to lose money if you do that, Adolph."

"It will not be an enormous loss, and we will still be connected. The Hostel and the plant will stand as separate businesses catering to different costumers, but the plant will still have the support of the Hostel. And as I mentioned before, it is difficult enough as is to balance the business of the vacations and syndicates. It will be much easier to keep track of the finances and paperwork if we stick to one side."

"You keep me around to manage the financial aspects. Why would this ever be an issue? I'm here," said Rolf.

"Yes, you are, Rolf. You are here... now."

Rolf swallowed and quickly excused himself from the room, immediately dropping the conversation. He didn't like his brother's tone.

As Rolf shut the door, the air in room became unnaturally cold as Adolph's lips stretched in a slow, maniacal grin. Rolf... He had a _very_ special plan in mind for Rolf.

Adolph laughed uncontrollably at the thought. It would be Sawyer's final gift.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

_The Sawyer family was gathered around the table. Fred-Fred's leather-faced father was sitting beside her. The grotesque centerpiece of a preserved human head and torso on the table stared at Fred-Fred as she sat in a chair made of bones. The family sang to her off-key as they presented her birthday cake. Fred-Fred tugged at the string that tied the hat to her head. It was uncomfortable._

_There was a compound miter saw beside her, the arm longer than standard models due to Uncle Tech's modification. An unfortunate young man who had wandered onto the homestead was tied down on the table, screaming. He had a bright red ribbon tied around his neck._

_Fred-Fred blew out the candles and the song came to a halt. She adjusted the arm on the miter saw so the blade was lined up with the man's neck. She had seen it done so many times by her family during dinner in the past, she knew it all by heart. _

"_**The saw... is... family,**__" Mama Sawyer said, giving Uncle Tech the hint to start the blade._

_The Sawyers stayed quiet, observing closely, eagerly. Gripping the metallic arm, Fred-Fred slowly inched the whirring circular saw towards the man's neck. When the spinning blade was barely a centimeter away from biting into flesh, Fred-Fred halted it from moving further. _

_The man looked up at her pleadingly, crying, begging for her to stop._

_Blood splattered across her face as she pushed the blade down and took off his head._

_The Sawyer family howled and cheered, some members moving in a wild dance while Fred-Fred's father clapped and laughed giddily._

_The only family member who did not show any overt joy was little Fred-Fred. While her family celebrated, she stayed seated, silent, looking at the decapitated head on the table. The corners of her lips moved up, but her eyes were stoic, unfeeling. There was only one other person on the Sawyer ranch who shared such an emotion, or lack thereof._

_Back in the shed, Fred-Fred's mother sighed as she heard the celebration. She knew what had just occurred. The first drop of blood had been shed. _

_It was midnight for Frederica._

* * *

**A/N:** The accuracy on the cruelty of Da Ji and King Zhou is debated since the historical records were written by their enemies. Though you have to admit, it makes for one heck of a story.

I feel bad for making Sawyer kill at such a young age, but it was necessary for symbolic and relative reasons. It was also a gift for Amigodude. I did promise him cake.


	5. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE: BLOOD OFFERING**

Sawyer was making her usual nighttime rounds near Ransaap and Nankwai. A tarp covered the sawed pile of flesh in the back of the beat up pickup truck she drove. There were not so many bodies that they would spill out if she took a sharp turn, but not so few that it would give the false impression that murder was an irregular occurrence in the city. If anything, she thought of the amount as average, a typical Thursday for her.

"Around the Inn. Right here," said Adolph. Holding back a contemptuous hiss, Sawyer stopped the vehicle by the Ransaap Inn and turned off the engine. They stepped out, clothed head-to-toe in cleaning gear. Sawyer held her chainsaw while Adolph carried a large bag with a biohazard symbol.

Every once in a while, Adolph would attend her on her cleaning routes. Knowing every twist and turn of the shady streets like the back of her hand by now, Adolph's presence was unnecessary. She didn't care about his watchful eye over her routes, but she grew tiresome of repetitions of lessons she already learned and his philosophical jabber whenever he had the chance to open his mouth. Two years had passed and Adolph was still playing these games with her. Half of the things he said or did was merely for the sake of getting on her nerves.

Whatever.

It didn't take either of them very long to check the last stretches of grimy alleyways in the area. Surprisingly, there weren't any corpses to collect there. Adolph murmured an off-handed comment about Roanapur becoming infested with lazy, mediocre cleaners as he picked up a matted clump of hair with a piece of scalp attached. Sawyer shook her head. Their displeasure at witnessing failure to pick up every piece by other cleaners was one of the few qualities they shared.

"Aside from this shameful display, I see nothing else to gather." Adolph stuffed the scalp in the front pocket of his apron. Sawyer motioned to turn, but Adolph jerked his hand up. His brow furrowed.

"Hold on, little one. Do you hear that?"

It was distant, but she heard it. A pitter-patter of rapid, panicked steps and heaving. She raised the chainsaw. It was coming closer, but where exactly?

The pattern was broken by violent barking and growling, and finally a shriek.

"'Nothing else to gather.' I spoke too soon!"

The noise was not too far. Listening intently, they walked towards it with a steady pace, but kept a cautious stance.

It didn't take them very long to find the source. They peeked over the side of a rusted dumpster to see what was causing all the ruckus.

It was two large, brutish black dogs. Their growls morphed into demonic roars as they thrashed, the moonlight illuminating their eyes to a creepy glow and the blood soaking their snouts were lit to a bright shine. Sawyer immediately recognized the savage mutts from previous cleaning tours. They weren't average soi dogs that were content with feeding on scraps or a feral cat. Sawyer knew this well enough from the bodies she found all over the city that were torn apart by the mangy mutts. No, definitely not soi dogs. Hell Hounds was a more appropriate title.

The darkness and the Hounds' movements made it difficult to make out just what had become their new chew toy. Squinting, Sawyer and Adolph realized the shrieking mass was one of the Hostel's prostitutes, a siren used to lure wayward males to their murder hotel. With a cry ripping at her throat, the woman struggled and flailed in an attempt to free herself, but the actions only encouraged the Hounds to dig their teeth deeper into her flesh, all the way to the bone.

Adolph's eyes gleamed. A siren who used her body and voice to lure men to their deaths was inching closer to her own end with every twist and scream. He chuckled at the irony before handing the bag over to Sawyer. He took out a Luger.

"Haven't seen my pets in a while."

He shot at the Hounds, each beast receiving a bullet in one front and hind leg. They jumped back from the hooker, blood mixed with the slobber dripping from their mouths. They stood on their unwounded legs and bared their teeth as Adolph stepped out, taking off his mask. Sawyer watched from behind the dumpster. What was he up to?

The Hounds growled and their stubby ears lay flat against the back of their heads as Adolph gradually stepped towards them. Sawyer was expecting them to jump and tear Adolph to shreds, but the Hounds soon placed their tails between their legs and whimpered as he took another step closer and brandished the gun. Either triggered by memories or pure instinct, they didn't want anything to do with Adolph and quickly slipped away.

Strange. She certainly never saw something like that happen on Wild Kingdom.

After he stepped over the prostitute's limp body, Adolph turned and motioned for Sawyer to come over with the Luger.

"What a shame. So young, she would have been useful for at least another fifteen years."

Sawyer assessed the damage. Even with Adolph's intervention, the Hounds still managed to rip the body limb from limb. There was a large pool of blood, intestines spilled out of the belly, only one arm remained attached, but it was chewed to oblivion. Sawyer reached down to pick up a leg.

"Hel... Help me..."

Sawyer looked up dispassionately.

"Please... help me... Hurts..." She coughed up blood.

"It lives!" Adolph proclaimed as he pumped his hands into the air. The prostitute was in so much pain, she didn't hear the mocking statement. She weakly looked up into the goggles Sawyer wore and fresh tears streamed down her face when she noticed the chainsaw.

"Don't... I—"

Sawyer yanked the ripcord and sawed off the woman's head without a second thought.

Adolph said nothing and pulled his sleeve down to check his watch. They still had time...

It didn't take Sawyer long to gather all of the parts. She slung the bag over her shoulder, the chainsaw swinging back and forth in her other hand as she walked. Adolph whistled and looked up at the sky.

"Predators and their prey," he mused. "What better example of life in Roanapur? It does not matter how much one cries. It does not matter how much one begs. It does not even even matter if they're still breathing. None of it matters. In the eyes of a predator, they're already dead."

Sawyer rolled her eyes. More trivial babble.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

"Just put it with the others," Adolph needlessly advised. Sawyer quickly jumped into the driver's seat after she tossed the body in the back. She wanted to get back to the Hostel.

Adolph, on the other hand, took his sweet time getting into the passenger's side; she was tempted to drive off and make him walk back.

"A decent haul for Thursday. You must be thrilled."

She turned the key in the ignition and put the vehicle in drive.

"I wonder if we lost a warm body for the murder resort. The siren must have been prowling for a victim... Oh well, there are plenty of unfortunate women in Roanapur. It won't be difficult to find another prostitute to fill that one's position."

Sawyer didn't pay his words any mind. She focused on the road.

"Torn apart by those beasts. How unfortunate! Almost as horrible as what happened back in Europe. Did you hear? The owner of the Hostel branch you first worked in, his mistress had her head chopped off with an ax and a group of street children played football with her head."

Sawyer had a remembrance of a smile underneath her mask.

"Or so I've heard. Turn here, little one," Adolph pointed. Sawyer slowed down and made the turn, confused. This wasn't the usual way back to the Hostel.

"No need to worry, little one. You're just getting an addition to your routine. Just follow my instructions. The Hostel can wait for now. "

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Prime real estate was the last thing that came to mind when they drove into the area. Dust and grime, dirt and dilapidated structures with little to no maintenance, many avoided it like the plague.

"This particular area has been vacant for a long time. No housing, no recent businesses, even drug dealers and junkies abhor this place. Ha!"

Sawyer gave him a questioning tilt of her head.

"The appearance is unsettling to many, but there's also much superstition about these grounds. Haunted, cursed, flooded with angry spirits and the like. Supposedly, there's a... grotesque history. Something about a ritual hundreds of years ago. The last owners of the buildings here blamed their misfortunes on it, others say they just sense this is the center of evil, and I do believe there was an account where a holy man dropped dead when he tried to perform an exorcism.

"But of course, that's only a rumor. You're not bothered by such things, are you, little one?" Adolph grinned. "Or are you interested? A place that may be haunted, you must feel right at home."

Sawyer knew that was a cheap shot at her ghostly appearance outside of her scrubs. It didn't bother her. Adolph chortled at the lack of reaction and his eyes lit up.

"Ah! See that building there? The abattoir! Stop there! Stop there! _Halt_!"

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

A slaughterhouse, he was giving her a slaughterhouse.

"Slaughter livestock to maintain the legitimate front. Rust has packed onto the machinery, there are some molds, many rats crawling about, but you're a grown woman. You can take care of all this yourself. I shall give you the keys and blueprints later. Memorize the layout, it's important to know the structure of your business. There's an extra room beside the office you can live in while you search for lodging in the city. We have gone over the many disposal areas, but I do recommend reviewing over them so you become familiarized more quickly. Now, you see these hooks? You..."

Sawyer wasn't really listening. She didn't feel shock, she didn't feel excited, she didn't feel any displeasure or discomfort. She really didn't know how to feel about all this. Her mind was still trying to register that her psychopath of a boss was giving her her own cleaning franchise as a present.

Sawyer came back to reality when she realized Adolph had led her to an alcove in the plant.

"Your final present is in here." Adolph turned a key in the lock and opened the door. Sawyer blinked when he flipped the switch inside the room.

The room was virtually spotless, white tiles free from any mildew or stains, a clean sink with a mirror mounted above, a pressurized hose coiled around a large nail, tools and torture implements resting on a pegboard, all of it immaculate.

In the middle of the room, Rolf struggled against the ropes that tied him to the table. His string of obscenities was muffled by a ball gag. Adolph walked over to his twin.

"I must apologize, little one. I wanted to present my brother to you in a proper condition, but I left a large goose egg on the back of his head when I restrained him. I hope such a detail won't bother you." He banged Rolf's already bruised head back onto the table. There were more smothered curses. Adolph lifted his hand in a circling motion.

"This room is cleaner than you're used to, but I'm certain Rudolf will not mind helping you give it a personal touch. Isn't that correct, brother?" Adolph smiled and undid the ball gag. A small stream of saliva dripped down the side of Rolf's mouth. He spat at his twin.

"_Du Bastard! Hör auf damit! Ich—!_" Adolph slapped him with the back of his hand.

"_Sei still, Rudolf. Du verdirbst den Augenblick._" Holding Rolf's mouth shut, Adolph turned to Sawyer. "Little one, this will be your parting gift, a stepping stone and an initiation into this crucial stage in your life. This abattoir will be your domain. Claim it with a slaughter."

Angered and panicked, Rolf struggled harder against his bonds and managed to rip his mouth away from Adolph's hand.

"_N-Nein! Nein! Tu mir das nicht an! Erinnerst du dich was du gesagt hast?_" Rolf swallowed. "A mirror... It would be like looking into a mirror and—!"

Adolph placed his hand on his chest and gasped in mock-surprise.

"_Oh, du erinnerst dich an all das? Ich dachte nicht, dass es damals eine angemessene Handlung war. Aber jetzt..._" He stroked his goatee and leaned in. "_Es ist Zeit den Schleier zu heben und in den Spiegel zu schauen._"

Sawyer fingered the grip on her chainsaw. She was not fluent in German, but she could make out a word or two. The begging was obvious, but there was more. Something about a veil and a mirror...

She saw Rolf's anger melt away into fear.

"_Du denkst nicht venünftig! Die Verträge! Die Finanzen! Ich habe mit ihnen gearbeitet seit wir in dieses Geschäft eingestiegen sind! Du kannst nicht—!"_

Adolph hit him again.

"_Ja, und du warst sehr nützlich in den vergangenen Jahrzehnten. Aber dein Nutze für mich ist verfallen._"

Sawyer scratched the side of her head. Finances... Business... Decades... Usefulness... Expired...

Adolph took his eyes off of Rolf, glanced at Sawyer, then back at his bound twin.

"_Der Vogel wird flügge. Gibt es keinen schöneren Weg für die Kleine als ihren Abschied zu feiern als das Ebenbild ihres Mentors zu quälen?_" He stroked the side of his brother's face. "_Ich habe von meinem eigenen Niedergang geträumt, aber ich werde nie einen solch eindrucksvollen Moment miterleben. Ich würde beim Finale tot sein!_" Adolph jumped back and raised his hands in the air.

_Kleine_. Little One. Adolph's pet name for her. She caught something about a bird flying away, reflection and mentor... Moment, finale and death...

By this point, Rolf had tears streaming down his face. Adolph put his fingers against Rolf's lips.

"_Wenn du dich dann besser fühlst, Rudolf, stell es dir als deine letzte Dienstleistung für mich vor. Ich könnte mir für mein bemitleidenswertes Ich keinen passenderen Weg zu Sterben ausdenken._"

Adolph drifted to the nearest corner and nodded to Sawyer, signaling her to do as she pleased. She didn't understand the significance of the act immediately. Only when she went over the small details she picked up in their foreign conversation and glanced back and forth between the twins did she comprehend what Adolph was trying to symbolize.

These past two years, Adolph was her boss. Now, he was going to let her go, and Rolf, his twin, his reflection, was at her mercy. It would as though as was liberating herself from him, and if she killed Rolf, it would be like Adolph was witnessing his own death at her hands.

Sick bastard.

She drummed her fingers against the engine block. It wasn't really Adolph on that table, but it was the next best thing. Then again, Adolph would get his rocks off by watching her torment his twin. Disgusting. Not a pleasant thought in the slightest, but when else would she get a chance to deface the image of a man who had caused her so much annoyance and frustration in the past?

She looked into Rolf's teary eyes.

It was not really Adolph...

But she could imagine.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Adolph laughed heartily and gave her a round of applause when she was finished. She washed her hands and put on a new pair of latex gloves, looking at the damage she wrought through the corner of her eye.

Rolf's body showed nary a trace of showing any human qualities anymore. Nails embedded in joints and sockets, limbs shattered with a sledgehammer and shaped at odd angles, flesh torn and slashed to the point it was impossible to tell where skin, where muscle, where bone ended and began. Everything was carefully arranged into an intricate masterpiece. Adolph could barely contain himself. He leaned in as closely as he could to what was once Rolf's face.

"_Wundervoll, wundervoll! Du verachtest mich so sehr? Einfach fantastisch!_" He spread his arms. "I am truly impressed, little one. I should have this plastinated for you. It can be your trophy. Truly, an astonishing accomplishment!"

With a rev and roar of a chainsaw, Sawyer destroyed her masterpiece. It was just an empty shell.

Adolph shook his head with a cackle.

"So that's what I am to you? Disposing of my image as if I were nothing more than trash!" he snickered. Marvelous, absolutely marvelous! She was a true cleaner.

"You finish and I'll wait for you in the truck. Clean up and collect the remains here and we will dispose of that thing down at the Hostel. This place isn't ready to do a full job just yet. It will take me a week or two, but once we have the all of the paperwork done, you can set a date for your grand opening."

".**..Why**?" she finally asked, . Adolph's smile flattened out.

"Why what?"

"**Why are you... doing this? Giving me... an abattoir?**"

"You are no longer needed at the Hostel," Adolph said evenly, honestly. "You possess the knowledge and experience necessary to clean on your own, to manage your own business. The money the Hostel received from the citizens of Roanapur was just something extra, not entirely necessary. In the end, it is growing more and more difficult to balance the vacations and regular clean-up jobs. You have the potential to take this burden off of my business. As Mr. Chang's comments have proven, you've already made a name for yourself as 'The Cleaner.' Your talents would be better utilized to focus on serving the needs of this city as a whole rather than having to divide your attention with the resort."

"**But... you'll be losing money...**"

"It's nothing to me," Adolph shrugged. "I'd much rather see you prosper with your own franchise."

"**Why? Why... me? Why not... the other cleaners? Why not someone... else? What is it... that makes you so confident... about me?**" The monotony of the electrolarynx didn't let on any hints of bitter skepticism, but her body language gave it away. With a hiss, Adolph leaned down and took her chin in his hand.

"Because you're different, little one..." He pinched her cheek.

"You're my legacy."

* * *

**A/N:** Translations:

_Du Bastard! Hör auf damit! Ich—!_ - You bastard! Stop this! I—!

_Sei still, Rudolf. Du verdirbst den Augenblick._ - Be quiet, Rudolf. You are spoiling the moment.

_N-Nein! Nein! Tu mir das nicht an! Erinnerst du dich was du gesagt hast? _- N-No! No! Don't do this to me! Remember what you said?

_Oh, du erinnerst dich an all das. Ich dachte nicht, dass es damals eine angemessene Handlung war. Aber jetzt... Es ist Zeit den Schleier zu heben und in den Spiegel zu schauen._ - Oh, you still remember all that? I did not feel it was an appropriate action to take at that moment so long ago. But now... It is time to lift the veil and gaze into mirror.

_Du denkst nicht venünftig! Die Verträge! Die Finanzen! Ich habe mit ihnen gearbeitet seit wir in dieses Geschäft eingestiegen sind! Du kannst nicht--!_ - You're not thinking rationally! The contracts! The finances! I have worked with them ever since we entered this business! You can't--!

_Ja, und du warst sehr nützlich in den vergangenen Jahrzehnten. Aber dein Nutze für mich ist verfallen._ - Yes, and you've been very useful these past decades. But your use to me as of now has expired.

_Der Vogel wird flügge. Gibt es keinen schöneren Weg für die Kleine als ihren Abschied zu feiern als das Ebenbild ihres Mentors zu quälen? _- The bird is going to fly from the nest. What better way for the little one to celebrate her leave than to torment the reflection of her mentor?

_Ich habe von meinem eigenen Niedergang geträumt, aber ich werde nie einen solch eindrucksvollen Moment miterleben. Ich würde beim Finale tot sein!_ - I've dreamed of my own demise, but I shall never be able to witness such a spectacular event. I would be dead by the finale!

_Wenn du dich dann besser fühlst, Rudolf, stell es dir als deine letzte Dienstleistung für mich vor. Ich könnte mir für mein bemitleidenswertes Ich keinen passenderen Weg zu Sterben ausdenken._ - If it makes you feel any better, Rudolf, think of this as your final service to me. I could not possibly conceive a more suitable way for my pitiful self to die.

_Wundervoll, wundervoll! Du verachtest mich so sehr? Einfach fantastisch!_ - Wonderful, wonderful! You despise me this much? Simply fantastic!

Once again, all translations are credited to the magnificent Lon.


	6. Chapter Six

**CHAPTER SIX: PROFILE OF A GHOST**

**Ten Years Ago**

_A wail ripped through the stale air. A twiggy male in a blood splattered T-shirt and ripped jeans desperately sprinting in the woods, he swore aloud as he looked over his shoulder to see a terrifying hulk of a man with a face of patched leather wielding a chainsaw and a small girl at the monster's side. The tiny branches of the surrounding foliage whipped and scratched at his face and arms, and the buzzing of the saw was getting closer. Quickening his pace, the man hoped he could lose them, but the searing Texas heat was robbing him of his breath._

_His foot wedged itself in a tree root above ground and his face had an intimate encounter with the dirt. He tried to scramble to his feet, but it was too late. The predators had caught up with him. With a violent mechanical whir and a drowned screech, the offending tree was showered with blood._

_The leather-faced monster heaved the chainsaw high in the air and proceeded to dance with the little girl in celebration. The prey had given them quite a run for such a scrawny creature._

_As the leather-faced man reached down to grab his prize, Fred-Fred saw something in the corner of her eye. A single white flower, a tiny splatter of blood staining three of its petals. How pretty._

_She picked it out of the ground and stuffed it in the pocket of her prairie dress. Her father made an inquiring whine through his mask. Fred-Fred jumped up and down, making a grabbing motion with her outstretched hands. The leather-faced man understood and knelt down. Fred-Fred climbed onto his back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The large man proceeded to give her a piggy-back ride as he dragged the corpse behind him._

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

_The shed reeked of death, a constant reminder to the shackled woman in the pigpen of the fate that awaited her. She sighed. How many years had it been since her daughter drew blood? It was hard for her to say. Time stood still in her prison, her personal Hell._

_A leather-faced monster with a chainsaw opened the door and the murky yellow light spilled in. She looked over hopelessly. What was he there for? Was going to play with her again?_

_Upon looking closer, the woman saw him dragging a mutilated corpse. Ah, so he was going to chop it up. Yet another reminder of what awaited her._

_She also noticed little Frederica drop from his shoulders and run over to her, undoing the latch on the pen. The woman looked at her daughter with her usual solemn glaze, seeing the speckles of fresh blood on her dress. So she went out on a hunt again? _

_It seemed Frederica was becoming more and more like her father these days. Sadly, it didn't come as a surprise. It was a gradual progression since she killed on her fifth birthday, three years ago. If she had been able to muster up the strength to lift her arms, the woman would have buried her face in her hands. What a nightmare._

"_Hi, Mommy," Fred-Fred moved forward and gave her mother a hug as the leather-faced man walked over to his work bench and took a skinning knife off of the peg board. The woman looked away and the sound of flesh peeling off was heard._

_There was a small cringe in her features as Fred-Fred hugged her. The motion hurt her greatly, her body was so frail, but she told herself to savor the moment. It was a sign that Frederica wasn't completely poisoned, yet. She didn't like thinking about the dark, treacherous path her daughter was going down._

"_I got this for you," Fred-Fred said as she dug around in her pocket. She pulled out the flower she picked earlier and handed it to her mother._

_The woman froze. Something flashed behind her normally empty eyes as she looked at it. She tentatively took the flower in her hands and gazed at her gift. A single white flower. The petals were stained with blood, but she paid it no mind. How did something so beautiful manage to grow in this wasteland? She looked at her daughter. Frederica went hunting, but... she brought this to her?_

"_Mommy?" Fred-Fred asked._

"_Thank you, Frederica," her mother whispered. To any other mother, a flower as a gift would have just been seen as any other good gesture, but Fred-Fred's mother saw something more meaningful in the action. She kissed Fred-Fred on her forehead. She then brought her daughter close and rested her chin on top of her head._

_Frederica's road was still dark, but perhaps there was a chance there would be light somewhere in her path. _

_Outside of the shed, a nosy eighteen year old looked at the scene through a crack in the wood._

_Gunny Tom pulled back and spit._

_Fuck the bitch-hog. So what if she was Fred-Fred's mother? The woman wasn't family. Bubba would just have to move on and find a new girlfriend._

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Sawyer finished up her final cleaning tour for the Hostel. It would be her last day of work there before she left for her plant in the morning. She would have left that night, but Adolph had arranged in the contract for her to stay in the Hostel a precise number of days before she could go to the plant. If she breached it, he could claim fifty percent of her monthly profits for the Hostel, plus, as an added bonus, she would be required to call him "Uncle Adolph". It was just another trick to annoy her, despicable man. She took off her mask and put her hands on her back, making cracking sounds as she stretched her back and moved her head side to side.

"What a grotesque sound," Adolph teased from the door of the cleaning room. "You're going to cause an early onset of arthritis if you keep doing that."

"**That's a myth,**" Sawyer quipped. She pushed past him in the hallway, intent on getting some rest for the night. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Ah, why so quick, little one? This is your last night here. Wouldn't you like to have a nicer conversation with your Uncle Adolph?"

"**No,**" she said, brushing his hand off of her shoulder. She turned to leave for her room, but Adolph stood in her way and bent at the waist to look at her eyes. He grinned. Sawyer's brow furrowed. What was he so chipper about?

"Do you find me so annoying you can't spare a minute of your time?" He looked at the electrolarynx in her hand. "Or does it have something to do with this device?" He snatched it out of her hand and threw it up into the air. Sawyer reached with wide eyes. Not noticing the sweat beginning to form on her face, Adolph caught it and mock-inspected it.

"This electrolarynx is a fascinating device, but not very advanced. You sound just like a robot with this. Nothing compared to the Ultravoice I've heard about. There's still a mechanical quality, but from what I can gather, it gives a more human tone than this outdated piece." He dropped the electrolarynx on the floor and promptly stepped on it. There was a crunch. Sawyer's eyes nearly bulged out of her head and she gripped her throat. Her voice!

"It's a good thing I'm so generous with you," Adolph said smugly as he pulled a small, white, microphone-like device out of the chest pocket of his suit. "A last-minute parting gift, a new Ultravoice." Adolph's eyes didn't match his smug smile or the disturbing cheerfulness he had displayed earlier. The little one's face, there was something wrong with her. He glared. What was that all about?

At seeing the Ultravoice, Sawyer's hand shot out and grabbed it like a mantis. With a shaking hand, she pressed the button.

"**Ah...**" Her voice, she had a new voice. It wasn't as robotic as the electrolarynx. Like Adolph had said, there was a more human tone, but the buzz that sounded beneath the word gave a reminder that she was still using a machine to speak. She took a deep breath to compose herself and shot Adolph a dirty look.

"**Thank you... Good bye.**" The words were empty, meaningless. She quickly rushed past Adolph and went into her room.

The middle-aged man arched an eyebrow. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. A roll of the eyes or a cold stare, but not the panicked sweat or the grit teeth or the fear in her eyes. No, that wasn't like his little one at all.

He held his chin in thought. Never did the little one show such a pathetic display, not even when he almost made her eat the human steak. Then why...?

The voice machine! For the past two years, she was rarely seen without it. He had never thought anything of it before. To him, it was a device she carried around. Did she have some sort of attachment to it?

His heart dropped in his stomach. How could he have not noticed it? Why would he? She never showed any obvious hints of attachment, how deeply it was valued. Yet only a minute ago, when he took it from her as a joke...

He restrained himself from punching a hole in the wall. It was just too much to hope, he thought. Adolph massaged his temples and sighed. The little one wasn't as perfect as he thought.

Damn, what a mess. His plans would need an adjustment.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Sawyer placed her Ultravoice under her pillow and buried her head in it. The closer the was to her voice, the easier it would be to soothe herself.

Trying to clear her mind, Sawyer pulled the covers over her head. She closed her eyes. It took some time, but she eventually fell asleep.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

**Ten Years Ago**

_The shed was ranker than usual. The rusted hooks dangled in a row, and blood dripped to the dried alfalfa on the floor. The center hook was occupied, protruding from the emaciated woman's back as it held her off of the ground. She could barely lift her head. A Bowie knife dragged itself down her left cheek._

"_Never shoulda kept ya alive this long," Gunny Tom sneered. "Only reason you still breathin' all these years is 'cause you're Bubba's girlfriend. But family doesn't like ya around. Yer not a good role model for Fred-Fred." He snorted._

"_It's Frederica," her mother mumbled. She wasn't fond of the nickname for her daughter. Gunny Tom stabbed her in the side. She yelped and a weak cry ripped at her throat._

"_Shut up," said Gunny Tom. "Y'know, way back when we caught ya, you made a helluva escape attempt. Whacked me pretty good with that shovel." Gunny Tom pointed to the scar on his chin._

"_Little bitch is just like you," Gunny Tom explained. "Whole family makes fun a Bubba at dinner time. Not her. Gives us all a dirty a look and takes 'im outta the house to play outside. Looks after 'im and treats 'im nice. When we kill, we all laugh, but she just sits there with a cold look in 'er eyes. Doesn't even smile. I wonder where she picked that up?" He slapped her with the back of his hand._

"_Even that fucker with the hockey mask looked happier than 'er," he guffawed._

"_Do I dare deceive myself with hope?" the woman said quietly to herself, blood dribbling down her chin from the hit. Gunny Tom squinted his eye._

"_Wut?"_

"_Such a poor little girl. Born into the pits of Hades, but not suited to dwell in Tartarus. Will her bad blood will prevent her seeing paradise?"_

_She struggled to hold her head up and looked to the ceiling._

"_Will the Fates torment her? Even when she escapes the pit, she'll be dancing by the gate with Cerberus near the murky river. Is it a worse destiny to forever wander lost through the realms of Earth and Hell than to be deprived of the light of Heaven?"_

"_The hell are you yammerin' 'bout, ya bitch?" Gunny Tom smacked her across the face once more. She coughed blood._

"_Destined to suffer for our families' deeds," she went on. For one horrible moment, she smiled. "A descendant of the Benders, am I being punished for my ancestors' crimes by rotting here? Is my atonement in vain?" She cranked her head upwards._

_"I've suffered enough. Don't damn her for the poison in her blood."_

"_Shut the fuck up!" Gunny Tom stabbed her in the gut. Amazingly, the woman didn't scream. After a moment of agonizing silence, she spoke._

"_You think it will go away if you kill me? You think she will stop acting so 'cold'?" Her bitter smile disappeared and she looked at her tormentor. "That leather-faced brute isn't the only one responsible for her creation. My blood flows through her veins as well. She may kill, but she is not of the repulsive breed as you are. There's a spirit beneath those eyes."_

_Gunny Tom broke into a fit of laughter._

"_Fancy words for a bitch-hog!" he taunted as he waved the knife in the air. "You say that to make ya feel better? Yeah, she came outta you, I'll give ya that. But our family will fix her good. Fred-Fred's a Sawyer; the saw is family. 'There's a spirit beneath those eyes', huh? Whatever bullshit you got runnin' through yer head don't mean nothin' here." He raised the Bowie knife overhead and looked at her neck with a grin._

_The door to the shed creaked open and Fred-Fred poked her head in; she had heard her mother scream and came to see what was happening._

"_Mommy?"_

_At that moment, her mother's solemn mask cracked. The tortured woman looked back and forth between the blade and her daughter. She broke out into a cold sweat and she trembled in panic. She shifted her weight and shakily lifted up one of her hands, shrieking._

"_DON'T LOOK, FREDERICA!"_

_The woman's neck split open with a deep red spray._

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

The tossing and turning became worse. Sawyer gripped her pillow and clenched her teeth.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

**Six Years Ago**

_Fred-Fred hit the ground like a lead weight. Blood leaked from her noise and mouth, and her vision blurred as she lost consciousness. That punk in the leather jacket had punched her, hard. She could hear the rustling of the dead leaves as her offender ran away. Still disoriented from the hit, Fred-Fred blinked and tried to regain her sight. _

_For several seconds, she managed to get a clear view of her father drowning. She saw him sink into the bog before she blacked out._

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Sawyer thrashed in the bed, unable to awaken from her nightmares. Blood dripped from her bottom lip as she bit down and she kicked the sheets off of her bed.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

**Five Years Ago**

_It was dark, so dark, and she was in so much pain... Her sobs made it difficult for her to breath. Maybe she shouldn't have run away from home..._

_There was a cold glint in the darkness, and the blade bit into her throat._

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Sawyer's eyes snapped open and she fell out of bed, making choking sounds through her heavy breaths, her heart feeling as though it wanted to rip itself from her chest. She clutched her throat with one hand as she reached under her pillow. Her voice, she needed her voice.

It was gone. The Ultravoice was gone. Her teeth ground as she picked up the pillow and moved the mattress. No, _no_. It couldn't be.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she broke into a cold sweat and her lip trembled before thrashing about. She ripped her room apart in a tantrum, searching for her voice in vain. The memories and the emotions overpowered her senses. Sawyer finally collapsed to her side and curled into a helpless ball.

She didn't notice the crack in the door. Putting his key away, Adolph fully opened the door.

"_Das ist also dein wahres Ich? Wie enttäuschend._" Adolph muttered, shaking his head. He walked in a circle around her with an analytical glance.

"What have I told you so many times before? What have I told you? 'It does not matter how much one cries. It does not matter how much one begs. It does not even even matter if they're still breathing. None of it matters. In the eyes of a predator, they're already dead.' Do you remember, little one?" He stopped in front of her body and turned away from her, stroking his goatee contemplatively.

"Did my lectures and philosophies bore you so? Did you think of yourself so highly that my lessons are ignored? Or is it that you don't want to the acknowledge your own weakness?" He looked over his shoulder. "But, of course, I never went into deep detail about the mind of a person, did I, little one?

"We spoke of apathy, but never of empathy or morality or sentimental values, have we? Such strange thoughts..." He took out a baht and held it up demonstratively, as if reciting a poem. "Think of money. It is what supposedly makes the world go 'round. It's an essential detail of life. You cannot sustain yourself without it in this world. It pays for your food, your shelter, your clothes, your luxuries... but that's on the basis of sentimentality. Money is only considered valuable and useful because humans as a whole have assigned a value to it. Now, let's think of money in literal terms, realistic terms.

"You take away the value that's been assigned to the money. Well, what use it is then? This baht isn't designed or healthy for bodily consumption, so eating it would be out of the question. It's not the best material to use for clothing. You could try to build a house out of the bills if you have enough of them, but it's doubtful that house would last very long against a drizzle of rain, let alone a howling typhoon.

"Practically speaking, this baht I hold and all the synthetic fibers of currency in the world are useless, yet they have a use and a purpose only because people have assigned a value to it. And what a high value it has! Most of the wonderful citizens of Roanapur will kill each other without a second thought if you offer enough for their services. Oh, look, I made a crane." Adolph flicked the origami bird off into a corner and fully turned towards Sawyer. He squatted on his haunches and gripped her hair, forcing her head back and looking into her eyes. They were blank, completely empty. She was catatonic. Adolph didn't care.

"Now, little one, let's think of this value in terms of how it applies to people," he started. "Since the human race has a wonderful habit of placing sentimental value onto inanimate objects, it comes as no surprise that people will value another living, breathing person. Be it their family, friends, lovers... or themselves." He pulled her face closer to his.

"But what are we, really? Flesh that can tear, blood that can pour, bones that can break. We live as any other animal in this world, living day to day in a never ending struggle for survival and power, and how tragic it must be, for all we accomplish in our lives, we are all still destined to die just like everyone else. Things like love, companionship, empathy, morals, _emotions_, they don't matter in the grander scheme of things. It does you no good to value others, and no good could ever come from valuing _yourself_.

"Roanapur is infested with predators, little one. Their minds aren't clouded with useless thoughts. No one is seen as a living, breathing soul. Everyone in this city is trash. Even I, even you. Give a piece of filth like yourself value and you run the risk of giving value to others..." He stroked the side of her face. "Rudolf always said you were born dead. A sadistic spirit with no feeling... Rudolf was a terrible judge of character. You may be a ghost, but not the way dear Rudolf saw you. You're a little woman walking between earth and the afterlife, a spirit that possesses the appearance of a deadly being, yet you linger on your miseries and refuse to let go of that which bonds you to this life." He patted the top of her head.

"Now, now, little one, don't think I bear any hostility toward you. You're still my star pupil. You have much potential, but this side of you," he traced a thumb across the scar on her neck. "It's unpleasant. To think I was going to hand over the Hostel branch once I passed on. The plant is still yours, but I'll have to keep a critical eye. Uncle Adolph will have to come visit you." He let go of Sawyer and let her drop to the floor. He sighed and curled his lip.

"What good does that do you? You get hurt one day and cannot defend yourself, what then? If you were lying around in a pile of trash, would someone come along and save you? Ridiculous." He took her Ultravoice out of his pocket and dropped it in front of her. He turned on his heel to leave. She would wake up eventually.

"Little one, you think too highly of yourself."

He shook his head as he walked out of the room. Completely void throughout, so that's how she was. Would it be too much to think she would remember the moment in her subconscious?

He shrugged and absentmindedly adjusted his tie. It didn't completely diminish her potential, but his affirmation of the hidden side of his little one was still disappointing.

Simply disappointing.

* * *

**A/N:** Because Sawyer is more than a machine monster or a cold-hearted cleaner. She's a severely broken little woman with many emotional issues.

And this is the end of the flashbacks. Thank goodness.

Translation: _Das ist also dein wahres Ich? Wie enttäuschend._ - So that is your true self? How disappointing.

Leatherface drowning in the bog – Happened in the third film, sort of, but in Bloodlust, Amigo and I had Revy whack him over the head with a skull and he drowned. So, yeah.

I know, the final flashback where Sawyer gets her throat slashed is very vague, but I wanted to keep it that way. One, there's always been some sort of mystery around the scar, and I don't want to ruin it with a guess. Second off, Sawyer loses all self control and breaks down completely when she loses her Ultravoice. It is obvious there is a lot pain there. It didn't just scar her, it traumatized her. What could traumatize a person who cleans up bodies for a living? Something that is screwed up beyond all imagination. When I so much as try to imagine the event that occurred when Sawyer's throat was slashed, I get sick. I don't mean "Ew, gross" kind of sick. I mean "I literally get sick to stomach and feel like I'm about to vomit" kind of sick. It's that disturbing to me. So, how Sawyer got her throat cut – I'm not crossing that line.

"_Even that fucker with the hockey mask looked happier than 'er,"_ - Very obscure comment. In the TCM comics, Jason Vorhees stumbles upon the Sawyer ranch and is eventually initiated as an official member of the family. If you take that detail into account, that means Jason is a cousin of Sawyer. Eeek.

Can't say "Cheers" just yet. This chapter's too sad.


	7. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN: FOOD CHAIN**

There had to be a way out.

The bulging eyes searched the room frantically. Through the blurred vision, the hooks dangled above, accenting the many mechanical contraptions intended for slaughter. What little sunlight that could make its way inside of the building highlighted the interior, giving everything a dingy yellow tint, a blanket of dust hanging and swirling in the air. A limp, bleeding foot scraped across the dirty cement floor, and the nose curled instinctively upon picking up the scent of burned flesh from the installed crematory.

In the shadows, a pale figure waited patiently, head lowered and blue eyes narrowed. Just a little bit closer...

The head perked up. A way out! Freedom! Just a few more feet and—!

There was a miserable sound as the ghostly apparition pounced. The head was quickly severed from the body. The skull cracked in half after a series of blows, eyes forced out of the skull. The body was torn and appendages were plucked from the sockets with obscene purpose. Blood flecked outward as the parts were thrown about for amusement, battered back and forth.

The gore show continued until the cat got bored, licking its bloodied paws. It wasn't hungry, and a dead mouse could only provide so much amusement. With a stretch and a yawn, the white feline placed its kill between a box and a wall, then found a solitary nook in the abattoir, curling into a ball and closing its eyes.

A buzzing sound reached the pointed ears and the alley cat opened the blue eyes to slits, as though annoyed. That strange, bug-eyed creature nestled away in the alcove of the plant had interrupted its nap time with that racket for weeks. What a pest.

Sawyer "the Cleaner" sorted the last the of the bashed limbs and placed them into a neat pile on the table, ignoring the dead rat she placed in the trash bin in a corner. Since she started working in the plant, she was finding mangled rodents in every nook and cranny of the slaughterhouse, many of them fresh. She assumed a feral cat she saw a while back when she settled in was behind all the exterminations. It was killing the rats and mice, a useful skill, but whenever Sawyer had to pull a little corpse out of a vent or remove one wedged between a wall, she wondered who the real pest was.

But it didn't try to scratch her face off, so that made it a little bit better than Pluto.

A little bit.

As she removed the black rubber gloves and washed her hands, Sawyer looked at the clock mounted on the wall. She had an appointment coming up, a job for Mr. Chang. She had only been working in the plant for a month now, and she hadn't heard from the Triad boss in a long time. Adolph had always met with the person making the delivery, and then he would pass off the corpse to her. But it was different now. She took all of her job requests directly. This would be the first time she was going to meet the delivery person face-to-face.

Picking her chainsaw off of a nearby table, Sawyer mildly wondered what type of person she would meet. Would the delivery boy be a Triad in a suave suit, or would it be one of the members of the lower tier of the criminal hierarchy?

As if on cue, there was a quick knock at the door before it burst open.

"Hello, hello! Hope I not late. Took me little while to find new address!"

The cleaner nearly jumped back from shock. Her vision was assaulted with a bright red china dress with golden accents, high slits revealing long legs and a row of throwing knives, a white jacket, and silky raven hair. Ruby red lips framed a pearly white smile as a tall Asian woman tossed a suitcase on the floor.

"So you Sawyer 'the Cleaner'? Very good meeting you! My name Shenhua." Shenhua leaned down to look into the concealing goggles. The magenta eyeshadow brought out the jovial glimmer in the Asian woman's dark blue eyes. "Mr. Chang use Adolph for years. You come along and then he want you to work big jobs. You never meet in person, yes? But he always ask for you. Chang _da ge_ must like you very much!"

Sawyer had to step back. Her smile...

"You work good, make big impression on people! I wanting to meet you long time."

Sawyer made a small nod in acknowledgment. That smile, it was...

"I see you not talk very much. No problem. Not need words to work," said Shenhua. She kicked the suitcase open and revealed a bound man.

"Chang _da ge_ say he want mincemeat. Easy order," she chirped. The man screamed girlishly through his gag. He struggled to get out of the suitcase, and Shenhua kicked him in the head, promptly knocking him out.

Taking a moment, she looked down and saw blood dripping from the chainsaw "the Cleaner" held. Shenhua curiously let her eyes wander around the room and took in the surroundings. That distinct scent of blood and flesh clung to the air. The white tiles were covered with a coat of red stains. Body parts were piled on top of each other on the tables, corpses stuffed into crates and... there were the clean, polished saws on the pegboard.

There was a light in Shenhua's eyes, a look of adoration.

"I see you take good care of blade," Shenhua sighed, the corner of her lip pulling further back to reveal a dangerous grin, showing an almost fang-like tooth. "That good sign." She turned her attention back to Sawyer.

"We get along nice, I think," Shenhua said; the grin never vanished. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. "Mr. Chang going to have more bodies in future. We going to work together for long time, so it nice to have good feeling between, yes?"

Sawyer gave another sheepish nod. She suddenly felt small.

"Okay, understand. Enough talk now, have to work. Good meeting, Sawyer. Bye bye!" With no more to say, Shenhua waved and glided out of the room.

One could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. Sawyer stared at the door, and she blinked. On her treks out into the streets of Roanapur, she had heard of a freelancer who wore a silk qipao and had tails with the 14K Triad, but Sawyer never expected that freelancer to be someone so... cheerful. That bastard Adolph had been eccentric, but this woman was on a completely different level. That freelancer... no, _Shenhua_... her smile was foreign to her. She had never seen a smile so... genuine.

Sawyer scratched the side of her head.

What a strange woman.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

**Three Years Later**

The mafia men gasped. A man in a khaki suit, Moretti, was the only one in the group who could speak.

"What the fuck are you two doing?"

"Changing! See, we can't wear our old clothes anymore. The blood got on them, and now it's dried like glue. So we needed new clothes."

The silver-haired twins knelt in the sticky crimson pool. The pale moonlight seeped through the shades, accenting a grotesque visage of large nails and a small Romanian flag impaled in a man's head.

"It's fun. You should try it!" chirped the girl. The boy shared his sister's smile.

A man in a grey suit, Bikey, stood behind Moretti, and his cheeks bulged. He clasped a hand over his mouth.

"Every time you hammer a nail into his head, he twitches just like a fish. He still moves, even though he's not breathing anymore! I think it's called 'spinal reflexes'," she tittered.

Bikey couldn't take any more. His hand moved from his mouth to the wall, and he bent over. There was a pouring splatter accompanied by gagging.

"Do you have any fucking idea how angry the boss is right now?" said Moletti, trying not to waver. "I only said to dissect that Ivan bitch. I never said anything about kidnapping her associates and turning them into goddamn science experiments!"

Bikey heaved while Moretti spoke. His knees were giving way; he could barely stand up.

"Now here's what you're going to do," Moretti instructed the small twins. "You're going to finish the job and get the hell out of the city, because I've fucking had it with babysitting the two of you!" With a shaking hand, he slammed the door.

The men who had managed to keep their lunches down carried a weakened Bikey as they followed Moretti down the hall.

"I can't believe those damn brats!" Bikey moaned. The distinct flavor of bile clung to his mouth. "They're far worse than having a fucking screw loose. What they did to that Ivan... it ain't right!"

"No shit," Moretti agreed. "Worst part is now we got to get rid of that corpse. Not even a cleaner will do that one, damn it!"

"_A_ cleaner," Bikey muttered. Moretti stopped and looked over his shoulder. He understood the implication.

"Bikey, we're not bringing the Hostel into this."

"I'm not talking about Adolph! I'm talking about his cleaner. He's pretty good, I hear. Has to be. I heard he was trained by the fuhrer in person."

"We can't afford Sawyer 'the Cleaner'," Moretti spat. "And he's in the Chinaman's good grace, too. Bad enough the Triads are involved in this shit. We'd be better off getting Adolph himself, and that nutcase doesn't take cleaning jobs anymore. Ever since the plant opened up, they all go to Sawyer."

"Is there anyone else we can call? There's gotta be some more cleaners out there. I don't wanna see that dead Ivan again..."

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

The Caribbean Bar was caked with blood. Buckets and bags littered the closed building as the three cleaners scrubbed the interior.

"So this is where Miss Balalaika's men were shot? I feel sorry for whoever did that. Man, why did Watsup wait so long to call us? The blood is really dry. Busy day for me, too. Spent some time in one of the Verocchio family's places earlier. Dude, it was the nastiest thing I've ever seen in my life!" the cleaner shouted through his gas mask. He dunked a sponge in the bucket as he rolled the very tip of his bleached blonde mohawk between the thumb and index finger. The bald, older cleaner beside him, wearing only an apron and a surgical mask over his mouth, listened half-heartedly as he scrubbed the walls of the bar.

"Fucked up, morbid shit, I tell ya!" Mohawk Man sounded more excited than disgusted. "I puked right there. He looked like that one guy who did the stuff in that movie. The one by Clive Barker. That guy with the pins in his head. Uh, uh..." He tried to snap through the thick rubber gloves.

"Pinhead?"

"Is that seriously his name? Wow. Well, anyway, there were nails and stuff in his head, but the hardest part was the blood. They had those really old wooden floors and carpets, so it was soaked on there like..."

Sawyer shook her head as she cleaned her corner of the bar. She preferred solitary work when she was cleaning in the field, and she was getting a bad case of deja vu. The bald man shared a resemblance with a bulky cleaner she had worked with in Europe, and the guy with the mohawk reminded her too much of Ecki.

This particular job wasn't exactly her favored area of expertise either. The bodies were already gone, probably picked up by Hotel Moscow. It was just a scrubbing job now, but the quantity of stains harshened the task. It wasn't a bloodbath, it was a flood.

"So, uh... You're Sawyer 'the Cleaner'?" Mohawk Man leaned over as he washed the wall in a circular motion. The scoped lenses of his gas mask were leveled with her goggles. She didn't give him the satisfaction of a nod and kept working.

"You gotta be. You're a man of few words, I hear."

Sawyer kept cleaning, not caring about the gender error. It was a common mistake that came with wearing the concealing scrubs.

"No offense, dude, but you're pretty short. I always imagined you to be taller."

She still didn't respond. Maybe if she ignored him, he would go away.

"I heard you're Adolph's cleaner, too."

She stopped scrubbing.

"You might not know this, but your name is pretty big in the cleaning business." Mohawk Man leaned against the soaked wall with one hand as he placed his other on his hip in a desperate attempt to look casual. He moved in further towards her face.

"You worked for the Hostel, right? Man, I hear that place is really fucked up. I've only been in this city for like, three weeks, but Adolph is a pretty big name with the undertakers. Word is a couple years back, the cleaners in that place kept goin' nuts because he would screw with 'em and stuff when he trained them. A lot of 'em quit, but they were all so fucked in the head that they couldn't work outside the Hostel. Then it stopped around the time you showed up."

Sawyer turned away from him and decided to scrub another area. She didn't want any reminders of Adolph, and she certainly didn't need to listen to this vermin. Not taking the hint, the bothersome cleaner followed her.

"Hey, where you going? Anyway, I heard that a lot of cleaners in town at the time noticed the uh... uh... What's the word?"

"Decline," the bald cleaner said gruffly from behind the bar, washing the surface.

"Thanks, man! It's like you're a mind reader! Yeah, so, there was a decline in cleaners coming out all nutso. Heard that Adolph was really weird with his treatments, but you could deal with 'em all so he focused on you. From what I've heard what Adolph's into, you're pretty fuckin' hardcore, dude."

Sawyer had to resist a sneer underneath her mask. "Hardcore, dude"?

"After all the training, Mr. Chang liked your work, you broke away from the Hostel to start your own business and the rest is history. That's what they say, anyway."

Sawyer was almost curious about that last line. Who was "they"? Probably that Dutch gossip Vanna and her cabana boy, Daan.

"So, uh, yeah, you're kind of a legend, man." The Ecki look alike wiped his gloved hands against his apron before digging into his pockets. "I know it's here somewhe— Here!" He pulled out a card.

"You know, man, if it ever happens, not that I'm saying it will, but if you ever need some extra hands to help you clean up a big mess or something..."

Sawyer's knuckles cracked as her grip tightened. All the crimson-tinted liquid in the sponge was expelled. A man with a mohawk handing her a card and talking about business prospects. Too much deja vu, and it was insulting. A little newbie trying to use her as a stepping stone for his own name. She should have brought her chainsaw with her, or maybe an angry cat.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Sawyer, he didn't mean anything by it," the bald cleaner interjected, pushing himself between the two cleaners. Sawyer loosened her grip; she had seen him on several occasions over the years in the streets, as far back as when she was still working for the Hostel. They never spoke and only knew each other by appearance. They could barely be called acquaintances.

"Give the kid a break, he's new to the city. Still needs to learn his way around." He made his point by smacking the back of Mohawk Man's head, the force of the blow almost knocking the gas mask off.

"Ow!"

"He's just excited to work with 'the Cleaner'. It's not everyday you meet someone who can stomach the murder resort. Here, take the card. If something ever comes up, it never hurts to have a little backup."

Sawyer looked down at the card in his hand.

"If you won't consider assistance, then think of it as a complementary coaster," he added flatly.

Sawyer took a moment before nonchalantly grabbing the card, slightly crumpling it in her hand before stuffing it in the pocket of her apron. Saying nothing, she turned on her heel and grabbed a nearby bucket, thinking about the offer.

Maybe, someday, she'd consider the extra help.

And maybe a wizard would pop out of nowhere and carry her away into the night.

Yeah, right.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

"Hell is missing two guardians."

Adolph reclined in the chair of the small office in the meatpacking plant, smug as usual. Sawyer took off her goggles and shot him a dirty look from the doorway. Even years after she left the Hostel, Adolph insisted on checking up on her from time-to-time. Thankfully, she didn't see him too often; the months he visited were few and far in between. Unfortunately, every time he visited served to drive a thorn deeper into her side. She would have gladly run a chainsaw through his gut ages ago, but the sick bastard would probably enjoy it. She wasn't going to give Adolph that satisfaction.

"I came across them in the fog. From what I could make of the wounds, my dogs were shot with a rifle." Despite this, Adolph didn't seem upset. He tapped his fingers together contemplatively. "It's not like a regular citizen to waste a bullet on an animal. It must be those children Hotel Moscow is throwing a fit about."

"**Unless you are going to... 'evaluate' my cleaning and the condition of my abattoir... Leave.**"

"You're awfully grumpy this evening," Adolph droned. "Can't you find it within yourself to humor me? I miss our old chats, little one."

"**I'm not in the mood... for your banter. Get... out.**"

"Now, now, little one, what's put you in such a foul mood? You're normally content with giving me a cold stare before ushering me out. Tell me, are the hunters irking you with their messes tonight?" His voice dropped and the playfulness disintegrated. Sawyer glanced at him sideways.

"**How did you know... about that?**"

"I know you log in your work," Adolph held out a book before dropping it gracelessly on the table in front of him. "And you take notes of current events. Very smart for keeping track, not so good for privacy. You may want to get a better lock on this, little one. Now, those neanderthals who shot that black sedan with the decoys, did you have to go out and scrape those children off the seats?"

"**It's not a concern for... the Hostel.**" She looked off to the side, disinterested. It was none of his business. Adolph rose from the chair and walked toward her.

"Dead children bother you?" Adolph asked. "They were in a city of predators. They were weak and they were easy targets. That's the way of this world. Do you feel pity? Don't tell me you're getting soft on your cleaning, little one. I didn't raise you for such behavior."

"_**You**_** didn't raise me... and I cleaned up no children. I took notes about the hunt because I need to prepare... for the morning. Once the hunt for those twins is over... I'm going to be very busy. The Triads are involved... and Mr. Chang will call soon for a rush job. I don't need you... taking up my prep time.**"

"Really?" Adolph asked. He absentmindedly stroked his goatee and looked up at the ceiling, casually brushing past her to go into the maze of slaughterhouse equipment. "Speaking of the that, little one, did it ever cross your mind to do any hunting on the side?"

There was a tiny buzz as Sawyer took a deep breath. She said nothing.

"Don't be so quiet, little one. It's just a question. I only ask for your personal health."

"**What do you care... of my health?**"

"It's not good for you to get this way," Adolph growled. He weaseled around the abattoir, looking for something. "You're starting to have a dirty look in your eyes. It's not pleasant. You're losing your instinct. Cleaning is important, but it will leave you feeling like a scavenger. You need to hunt live prey once in a while. It's vital for your character."

"**You let me worry... about that. It's... none of your business,**" she said, keeping an eye on Adolph. What was he up to?

"I took you under my wing for two years. I shall decide what aspects of your life is and is not my concern," he huffed, still searching. "I don't want you ending up like the clients at the murder resort, those who claim to be part of the 'Elite Hunting' group, thinking their bloodhound tattoos are well deserved. Bah! The Hostel staff kidnaps the guests and prepares them for use. 'Elite Hunting'? You're not a hunter if someone has to bring your prey to you. Pathetic. You won't be part of that group. I taught you better than that."

"**I don't think like that,**" Sawyer stated.

"It's a preventative measure to _keep_ you from thinking as such," Adolph said as he lifted a cardboard box. "And you never answered my question. Have you ever considered hunting on the side?"

"**... Sometimes,**" she admitted. "**But there was never... any need. I earn enough... from cleaning.**"

"Never say that again," Adolph hissed. "Money? That's why you won't do it? It has nothing to do with that, little one! Don't give such ridiculous reasons. It's for the sake of the hunt. The thrill, the rush. Have you ever considered on that basis?"

"**... Yes. Many times.**" And it was a basis she took part in long ago, but Sawyer wasn't going to delve into her family origins with Adolph.

"Do you ever compare yourself to that freelancer of Mr. Chang's? Wonder what it's like? Wonder what happened before she turned them into luggage and delivered them to you? Have you ever wanted to put yourself in her place?"

Sawyer stayed silent.

"No need to answer. I know enough," he said. He looked between a stack of old crates and snarled. "Pick up hunting. It's good to have a hobby. It keeps your mind fresh and revitalizes the body. However..."

There was a horrible noise as Adolph reached into a crack in the crates and pulled out an irate white cat by the back of its neck. The ears pointed back and it bared its teeth, hissing and screeching and scratching.

"I don't recommend you hunt with groups," Adolph advised, holding the cat a considerable distance away, avoiding the sharp claws. "It's better for you not to play with others. They say there's strength in numbers, but it ruins your sense of independence. You're a cleaner first, little one. Hunting is just an outlet. You're more suited to be a solitary predator. No good will come for you if you hunt in a pack. You're going to pick up unwanted habits. You don't need a mentality that forces you to rely on others. It will make you weak, soft. I know all too well you have enough... vulnerabilities."

He reached out with his other hand and traced a finger along the scar on her neck. She smacked the hand and took a step back.

"One is enough." Adolph gestured to the aggravated cat. "Growing too comfortable around people will cause complications. It's all fine if you're a primary hunter, but not very becoming of a cleaner. Our kind doesn't bode well with the living, and we need to emulate the emptiness of the dead we dispose. It may seem nice to have support in a group, but this city houses many traitors. A pack is only as good as the people within it." He threw the cat against the wall. There was a loud, hideous crack and it hit the floor with dead weight. The neck had snapped upon impact.

"It's not very wise to get too close to the residents of this city, little one. There's nary a soul who won't turn if given the opportunity, and they will be all too content to abandon a despicable creature like you."

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

Thin lines of light crept out along the blackout shades of the otherwise dark room. The small lamp beside her on the nightstand did little to illuminate the environment, only providing a solitary light for reading. The many cross and skull ornaments throughout displayed a dull shine and there was an unusual scent of incense blended with a cleaning agent. The gothic woman sat cross-legged on the bed, polishing the guide bar of her chainsaw, handling the monstrous contraption with a strange gentleness, treating it like a precious child.

In one of her rarer moments, she had found the time to contemplate in silence. No blood, no buzzing, no roaring, no screaming. Quiet.

She ran a finger along the teeth. The poor thing, it seemed to be feasting more and more on raw corpses these days. The only live bait it had that week was that man in the suitcase Shenhua had brought in on Tuesday. The saw needed more fresh meat.

She hugged the engine block to her chest and leaned back into the pillows, closing her eyes. The saw, the saw was all she had left. The only memoir, the only tangible link to those moments where she listened to stories and danced in the moonlight after a slaughter. Twisted, but it had made her happy once.

Contemplating was not so terrible, but reminiscing brought on pain. She hugged the engine block closer and a single tear made its way down her face.

She hissed and sat back up, furiously wiping at the tear, the chainsaw falling at her side. What was this nonsense? She was Sawyer "the Cleaner", one of Roanapur's most notorious executioners and undertakers. Sorrow and melancholy, "the Cleaner" didn't feel all those petty emotions. Fred-Fred had grown up and left the homestead a long time ago.

... But the _urge_ was still there, that _need_ to spill blood. That predator's drive left over from so many generations of the Sawyer family. She supposed she had put aside hunting for so many years to focus on burying her emotions, waiting for the right time. She laid back down and draped her hand on the guide bar, thinking. She didn't _need_ any extra money, so she wouldn't have to pick up a job that was too strenuous. Something simple, something to get the urge out for the time being.

There was news that there was a cheap job being put out by a cartel based in Florida to hunt down a counterfeiter. One thousand dollars. It was pocket change, but the experience could be worth it...

She frowned considerably. On the other hand, she was aware that the cartel was taking everyone who volunteered. There were undoubtedly going to be more people on this job. Roanapur was a sick place, and she knew all too well from the way corpses flooded the city that many hunters would be joining the hunt for the sake of amusement rather than monetary reasons. She wasn't sure how well she would interact in a pack.

The frown disappeared. No, that was _Adolph_ talking, that overblown speech given to her months ago, pathetic attempts to instill his own values and turn her into a carbon copy of himself. Not happening. She was a Sawyer; thanks to prior experience in Texas, hunting in a pack would be second nature to her. And she knew Roanapur, she knew the nature of the residents. If there was ever any need to break away from the group, she could do well enough on her own. She was flexible.

She ran a hand through the dark messy hair and looked at the clock mounted on the wall, fingering the grip of the chainsaw with the other. The small blood red lips formed a predatory grin.

She would make her father proud.

* * *

**A/N: **And here we are. Next up is the epilogue and it's all done.

For those of you who want to keep track, here's the time/age line for the major points in _Butcher_.

Age 5 – Sawyer has her first kill on her birthday.

Age 8 – Sawyer witnesses her mother die at the hands of Gunny Tom.

Age 12 – _Bloodlust_ takes place and Revy drowns Leatherface. Sawyer witnesses this and runs away from home shortly afterward.

Ages 12-14 – Sawyer is backpacking through the Southwestern United States over a course of two years. Her throat is slit in this time.

Age 14 – Sawyer meets Ecki in Houston and gets a job with the Hostel. She works as a cleaner in Eastern Europe for two years.

Age 16 – Sawyer is transferred to the Hostel branch in Roanapur. Adolph trains her personally for two years.

Age 18 – Sawyer has a solid reputation as "the Cleaner" and is given the U.G. Pork meatpacking plant by Adolph to start her own cleaning business. She meets Shenhua in person.

Age 21 – The Vampire Twins arc takes place, Greenback Jane shortly follows months after.

Thank you to those who took the time to read this sticky, bubbling mass of brain sludge that was scraped off the bottom of my imaginative facets. I do like some parts in this story better than others, for while some parts just flowed with no problems, there were also sections that made me feel like I was chewing on nails. This feels a little too fast-paced with all the time skips, but I admit that this story is only a _peek_ into Sawyer's life, not a full blown biography. That's too scary for me.

Once again, thank you all for reading this (literally) nightmare fueled piece.

Cheers.


	8. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE: LIGHT IN THE PATH**

It was almost show time.

Looking into the mirror of her dresser, she adjusted the strap of her Ultravoice's holster and centered the pendants around her scarred neck. Trivial, but it looked nice. It would be the first time she ever went to work without the surgical gear. Personal taste aside, she supposed the gothic clothing, while unusual, would allow her to blend into the Yellow Flag more easily than if she chose to wear the mask and goggles.

There was also a practical element to her current state of dress; it would be easier to chase the prey down in a dark frilled skirt and black knee-high boots rather than trying not to trip over a black leather apron every ten seconds.

Satisfied with her appearance, Sawyer hopped off the chair and grabbed the large chainsaw waiting patiently on the bed. There was an eerie smile as she gazed at her reflection in the guide bar. She took a moment to reflect, mentally, about the events leading up to this point. Everything that had been said and done, everything she had experienced, everything she had been through, and she was still alive. She earned the right to this hunt.

Annoyingly, Adolph's voice started playing in the back of her head. All that talk about hunting in packs, all that nonsense about forming a reliance and being abandoned in a time of need. She was stronger than that.

She had been through hell all her life. There was no such thing as tenderness, no such thing as kindness, no such thing as mercy. There was only bloodshed and apathy. This hunt would be no different. She would take down the target by herself if she had to do so. She was used to being alone.

As she reached for the door knob, she hesitated. There was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was going to happen to her if she went tonight...

She promptly ignored it and opened the door, shaking her head. It was just a feeling. It probably didn't mean anything.

After all, how was her life going to be affected by one hunt?

**THE END**


End file.
